The Soul of a Hero
by Kittycat3
Summary: A frivolous young Breton from the Imperial City is thrust into the Oblivion crisis after a night of fun lands her in jail. Now she fights her fears as she spends her days with the Septim heir and tries to stay alive long enough to help him to his throne.
1. Prologue

As she reached the final door, the door to the Sigillum Sanguis, she allowed herself a sigh of relief.

"Thank the Nine," she said alound. She opened the door and stepped through. When she turned around, her breath caught in her throat. Where was the man from Kvatch? He was behind her just a moment ago! What could have happened to him? Steeling herself, she thought only of her quest as she forced her legs to walk onto the platform, creeping along side the ruby red dome in the centre of the tower and making her way up the claw-like stairs. Stepping onto the thin red membrane that served as the final platform, she saw the Sigil Stone on the other side of the tower. Running towards it, she didn't see the dremora mage until he cast a spell to paralyze her.

"Aahh!!" She cried out as the spell hit her, and she froze on the spot. Her sword fell out of her immobilized hand as the dremora walked towards her.

"Such a pretty thing," he drawled, his voice like the crunching of gravel underneath boots. She tried to move but the spell was strong. He stood before her, his red skin matching the colour of the dome below. "Such a pretty plaything you would make." She could smell the foul stench that came from his mouth when he spoke. He withdrew a dagger from his belt and held it to her cheek. "A pity I cannot keep you."

He moved the dagger from her cheek and it fell out of her veiw, until she felt it slice open her throat.

She awoke with a bloodcurdling scream and sat up. From his bedroll on her left, Baurus yawned in the darkness. "Another nightmare, Rozenn?" Panting, Isolde Rozenn nodded. "Yes," she whispered when she had found her voice.

"Must it happen every night?" Snapped a tired sounding Caroline.

Shivering as she threw the blanket from her body, Isolde, ignoring Caroline, rose from her bedroll and walked out of the sleeping quarters, knowing that sleep would not come to her again this night. She walked up the stairs and into the Great Hall, thankful that the fire was still blazing. She took a chair from one of the tables and sat down close to the flames. She stared unblinking into the fire and was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't hear approaching footsteps. She jumped when a hand was laid on her shoulder and she looked up to see Baurus standing over her with a small smile.

"Another night of this, and I'm going to beg Jauffre to give you your own room." Isolde forced a small smile and Baurus pulled his hand away. "Was it the tower," he asked her, his tone now serious. "Or the caverns?"

"The tower again," she whispered. "It was...terrible in that place, in Oblivon. Baurus, you have no idea." The Redguard nodded; it was true, he could only imagine what the planes of Oblivion were like. Secretly, he hoped never to have to find out. Baurus studied the young woman he had known for such a short time.

When he first laid eyes on her, she was a prisoner in the dungeons, and now she sat before him the 'Hero of Kvatch' and a new member of the Blades. She had obviously proved herself to Jauffre, and she had proven her worth to Baurus when she had helped him out down in the Elven Garden sewers. She had been thrust into this new life by the dead Emperor, and she seemed to be adjusting to it quickly. Except for the nightmares. Killing a whole cavern full of Mythic Dawn agents would be no sweat off of his back, but Isolde had been pretty shaken up about it. Baurus had to admit that he was becoming fond of the girl, and he took this moment to try and comfort her.

"You did a good job cleaning out those caverns," he complimented. "I was lucky," she told him, running a hand through her blonde hair. "And I was too slow to retrieve the Amulet, besides." Isolde sighed regretfully and turned her head back to the fireplace.

"No, but you did get the book. That's something."

"It wasn't enough," Isolde lamented.

Baurus sighed. He could understand all too well what she felt like: the feeling of utter failure was almost overwhelming. He himself was still wracked with the guilt over the death of Uriel Septum. "Look on the bright side," he tried to tell her. "You got rid of a whole cave full of Mythic Dawn. That's quite the contribution to the Empire. And you closed an Oblivion Gate! Hell, Rozenn, the other Blades are green with envy at the all fame you're getting. Not that they'll admit it."

But Isolde shook her head. "The cavern was different than the Kvatch gate. Dremora and scamps were one thing, but these were citizens of Cyrodiil. People with families and houses and jobs. And I had to kill all of them, Baurus."

"Just remember that they killed the Emperor, Rozenn, before you start to feel guilty," Baurus said, telling her the harsh truth. "They deserve no less than death. And they don't deserve your pity. You did what you had to do. Kill or be killed."

Isolde nodded. "I know," she said. "I know that you're right. I just wish I didn't dream about them."

Baurus sighed. "The nightmares came to everyone, Rozenn. You just have to wait them out."

"You had nightmares?" She asked, surprised.

"Well, of course _I_ didn't," Baurus smirked a little. "I _am_ a Redguard, after all. This is what I was born for." Isolde grinned. "But they will go away," he assured her.

"When?"

Baurus could only shrug. "When they do." Isolde blinked and nodded slowly. The Redguard smiled gently. "Try and get some sleep," he told her before walking back to the west wing. Baurus had been gone for about ten minutes when Isolde heard someone clearing their throat behind her.

"May I join you?"

Isolde looked up to see Martin standing in the doorway with two mugs in his hands.

"Of course."

Martin walked over and passed her one of the mugs which contained hot mulled wine. "Here," he said, pulling up a chair beside her. "I figured you would be up here again. I thought you might welcome a warm drink." Isolde took a sip and smiled as the warm liquid filled her stomach. "Thank-you, Martin, I appreciate it. But what are you doing up at this hour? Last night you said that you would retire early and give working on the Mysterium Xarxes a rest." Martin cleared his throat. "I heard your screams again," he told her honestly. "I thought perhaps you might want to talk about it."

Isolde felt a stab of guilt. "I'm sorry I woke you up. I...I didn't mean to," she finished lamely.

But Martin just shook his head. "There is no need to apologize, Isolde. As I've said before, what you saw in Kvatch when you closed that gate, well, I can only imagine. I assume that it would stick with a person."

"And it's only going to get worse, isn't it?" she asked him with a whisper. "Yes," Martin agreed. "It probably will."

Isolde looked into the blue eyes of the new Emperor. She had delivered the Mysterium Xarxes to him almost a week ago, and he had enough to worry about now without her adding her troubles to the list. "Martin, it's alright. I told you I don't need to talk about it. They're just nightmares, they'll go away eventually." The pair sat drinking their wine in silence until Martin spoke up. "You know, you never did tell me how you got to be wrapped up in this."

At this, Isolde felt herself grin. "Haven't I?"

Martin shook his head.

"I was in the Imperial city dungeons when the Emperor was fleeing."

He let out a noise of shock. "You were in the dungeons? Why?" Isolde put her mug down on the floor. "I had two cousins visiting from Evermor. They had never been to the Imperial city before, and they demanded that I show them a good time. That of course meant tavern after tavern. But none of us can hold our drink very well." Martin chuckled quietly beside her. "Yanick quickly picked a fight with the wrong Bosmer, and soon it was an all out tavern brawl. The guards came soon after it broke up, and that bastard Bosmer outed us as the ring leaders. I was only trying to help my cousins," Isolde said, turning her head to Martin.

"I tried to stop them from fighting. But the guards didn't listen. I even tried to tell them that I was friends with one of their captains and that he wouldn't take kindly to my being arrested, but it did no good. Instead they took us to the jail. We would have been released if we paid gold, but we had spent it all. And to top it off, my mother was in Skingrad, so I couldn't look to her for gold. Yanick, Erwan and I were sentenced then to stay in the dungeons until my mother got back from Skingrad and bailed us out. She was to be back in only two days, so we figured it wasn't such a bad punishment. It could have been worse. And then early on the second morning, the Blades came and the Emperor saw me and bade me to come with him. The rest you know."

She finished her story and saw that Martin had an odd half smile on his face. "What?" The smile grew and he shrugged a shoulder. "I cannot believe that you, Isolde, were in a tavern brawl."

Isolde laughed. "I told you, I was only trying to stop my cousins from fighting." But a sly look crept into her eyes, and Martin smiled again.

"I'm afraid I don't fully believe you." Isolde scowled at him, but her eyes were grinning. Martin cocked his head to the side a little and looked at her. "You know, I am glad that I have gotten to know you better over the past few nights."

Isolde nodded her agreement and thought back to when they had first met, more than a week ago.


	2. Chapter 1

So obviously I don't own anything other than Isolde.

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She had just closed the Oblivion gate and had been with the Kvatch guard, wiping the remaining scamps out. She easily found the chapel of Akatosh and she ran in, looking for Brother Martin. She almost smiled as she realized what she must look like, wearing nothing but some old steel armor given to her by Jauffre. Armor that was now covered in daedra blood. Isolde came upon Martin and all but demanded that he come with her. Shocked at first, and looking at her like she was mad after telling him he was the late Emperor's son, Martin eventually agreed to come with her to Weynon Priory after she told him what she needed to tell him. They left the chapel and ran for the main gate where Isolde saw Prior Maborel 's horse still waiting patiently for her. Jumping on, she ordered Martin to get on behind her.

"Time is short and the road to the camp is quicker on a horse," Isolde told him logically. Rather reluctantly, the priest climbed up on the horse. The paint whinnied at the extra weight, but made it down to the refugee camp in mere minutes. There, Martin found a man willing to sell him his horse for a few much needed pieces of gold. They left the grateful Kvatch refugees at two o'clock and rode hard on the Gold road. They stopped only when they reached Skingrad, and Isolde looked at her map and decided that cutting straight throught the woods would be faster than continuing down the road.

"Wait just a moment," Martin spoke out from beside her. "This is madness. Who are you? You ride up out of nowhere and save Kvatch from destruction. You saved my life and I don't even know your name." Martin looked at her expactantly. The pair had been spending the past two and a half hours riding fast, and that hadn't left much time for chit chat. Even so, Isolde got the impression that he wasn't a very talkative man. Isolde smiled at him as she turned the paint into the woods.

"I'm Isolde," she told him. "Isolde Rozenn." Martin gave her a small smile as they kicked their horses into a canter. After riding through the dense forest, they finally reached Weynon Priory at seven o'clock But all was not well. Eronor, who took care of the horses and sheep at the Priory, ran up to them, panicked and disheveled.

"You must help us!" The Dunmer begged. "They are attacking the Priory!" Isolde looked up to see Mythic Dawn agents rampaging through the Priory. She quickly jumped off the horse and ran towards the now dead Prior Maborel, drawing her sword and hacking wildly at the agent. From the corner of her eye, she spied Martin running towards her.

"Stay back," she ordered him. What was the point of going through hell in Kvatch if he just got himself killed here? But the priest surprised her, taking the sword from the dead agent and wielding it far better than she did. "Where is Jauffre?" Isolde called to Eronor.

"The last time I saw him he was headed towards the chapel," the elf replied. Isolde and Martin ran to the chapel only to find Jauffre engaged with more Mythic Dawn agents. Taking a deep breath and gathering her courage, Isolde rushed to his aid, as did Martin. When the last of the agents were dead, Jauffre told her to follow him to check on the Amulet of Kings. But when they reached his private quarters, the Amulet was not in its hiding place.

"It is gone, just as I feared. The enemy has defeated us at every turn." Isolde was dismayed, but Jauffre was obviously very pleased to see Martin. "Hurry," he ordered. "We must not stay here. They will be back when they hear of Martin's survival. Which they will. We will be safe for the moment at Cloud Ruler Temple, the hidden fortress of the Blades. There we can play for time." Jauffre turned to Isolde. "Will you accompany us?" He asked her. Isolde was hesitant; Jauffre had asked her to find Martin and bring him here. There was no real reason to continue on this quest. But one look at Martin's confused, anxious face persuaded her. She was the one that dragged him from his home, the least she could do was stay with him and make sure he was going to be alright. "Yes," she answered.

"Good," Jauffre said. "Then we must be off at once." Martin and Isolde followed Jauffre out to the stables and mounted their horses, leaving for the Temple at half passed eight. If Martin and Isolde had thought the horses were driven hard the on the first journey, it was nothing compared to how fast Jauffre ordered them to go. Any chance Isolde might have had at speaking to Martin was lost; any word uttered would have been drowned out by the thumping of horse hooves anyway.

They rode the Orange Road for more than three hours and the cold mountain air began to get thinner as they climbed the steep road, coming to the Temple at last. Isolde was floored as she looked up at the great stone building. The three riders drove their exhausted horses up the stairs where two lines of Blades awaited Martin and Jauffre. After dismounting, Isolde listened, trying not to yawn, as Jauffre adressed the Blades and smiled when they drew their swords. Martin gave an impromptu speech to the thirteen Blades, letting them all know of his uncertainty, and his hope of being worthy of such loyalty. Isolde had heard better speeches from drunk men in taverns, but she wasn't about to say that aloud. It had seemed enough for the Blades though, and that pleased Martin. Jauffre too, seemed satisfied with the speech.

"Thank you Martin. Well, shouldn't we all get back to our duties?" The Blades saluted once more and then left to do their respective duties. Martin turned to her then. "Not much of a speech, was it?" He said. Isolde just shrugged, too tired to attempt to reassure him. "But they didn't seem to mind. Imagine, the Blades saluting me and hailing me as Martin Septim." He shook his head in disbelief. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful," he told her when he saw Isolde's mixed look. "I know I would be dead by now if it weren't for you. Thank-you."

Isolde nodded her head. "You are welcome, Martin. I'm just glad that you'll be safe here."

"But everyone expects me to suddenly know what to do. How to behave. They want an Emperor to tell them what to do. And I haven't the faintest idea..."

"You need to get the amulet back for starters," Isolde told him, willing her eyelids to stop drooping.

"Of course, the Amulet of Kings. So we...I..can take it to the Temple of the One and light the Dragonfire. And stop the invasion." "And then you will be the Emperor." Isolde felt an shiver of excitment run up her spine. Martin smiled. "The Emperor. There's an idea the will take some getting used to. In any case, we need the Amulet first. Maybe Jauffre will know where to start." Isolde agreed and they found Jauffre inside the Temple.

"Ahh, Isolde, I must speak with you," Jauffre told her. "You have proven yourself a loyal servant of the Empire, as worthy as any of the Blades to stand by Martin's side during this crisis. As the Grandmaster of the Blades, I would be honoured to accept you into our order. Will you join us?" He asked. Isolde was more than shocked to say the least and she let out a gasp. Growing up, she had heard tales of the Blades and their bravery. And now she was being asked to join them by the Grandmaster himself? She looked at Martin and saw that he wore an expression of awe; he must have been as surprised as she at the invitation. 'What should I do?' She wondered. She certainly didn't feel brave enough to be a Blade, but she must have shown great bravery otherwise Jauffre wouldn't have extended the invitation. And it wasn't as if she couldn't wield a sword. She would just need to be better. Isolde's biggest concern would be her lack of seriousness. Her carefree approach to life would need to be quelled if she joined the Blades.

Shaking her head, she realized that this was important! So much more important than spending time in taverns with friends, which was how she usually spent her days. And her nights.

"Yes, sir," Isolde answered. "I will join you."

Jauffre smiled. "Then it is my honour to welcome you into our ranks as a Knight Sister of the Blades." Isolde felt a swell of pride that she squashed as she thought of the amulet. "What about the Amulet of Kings?" She asked, wanting to get back to the task at hand. "Yes," the Grandmaster answered. "We must try and recover it as quickly as possible. You should go back to the Imperial City," he ordered. "Baurus may have learned something about the assassins. He'll be staying at a boarding house in the Elven Gardens district. It's called Luther Broad's boarding house."

"Consider it done," Isolde told him. "Excellent," he beemed. "Now, I think you two had better get some sleep. Martin, I will show you to your quarters. Isolde, you will be sleeping in the Blade's barracks in the West wing, just through that door on your left. Find me in the morning and I will have your new armor and sword." And she did find him in the morning, just before she headed out. He was with Martin, who wished her good luck with her assignment.

She left the temple at eight in the morning and when she reached the Imperial city, she took the opportunity to speak with her mother Sofia and let her know what was happening. After a brief visit, she found Baurus in the Elven Gardens district, who seemed surprised and happy to see her again. He sent her to the Arcane University to seek out one of the Mages there. After finding and talking with the Argonian Tar-Meena at the University, and staking out a bookshop in the Market District, she helped him recover the Mythic Dawn Commentaries volume four. She then took it back to Tar-Meena and found out the location of the Mythic Dawn headquarters.

Four days after she had left Cloud Ruler, Isolde returned, shaken and overwrought. She ran into the Great Hall straight away and found Martin sitting at one of the wooden tables. Seeing her walk up to him, Martin was releived to see her back at the Temple. "Ah, you're back. I told Jauffre not to worry." He was smiling, but when he saw her face, he knew something was wrong.

"I can see you have bad news. You didn't recover the Amulet, did you?" Isolde shook her head regretfully.

"No Martin, I'm so sorry. Camoran escaped through a portal at the last second. But I have something else." She pulled out the book that she taken from the caverns and showed it to him. "I have the Mysterium Xarxes."

Martin's blue eyes went as wide as saucers. "By the Nine!" He cursed. "Such a thing is dangerous even to handle!"

Isolde winced at his curse. Had she been wrong to bring it back with her? Martin's face softened when he saw her expression. "Forgive me. You were right to bring it. But you had better give it to me. I know some ways to protect myself from its evil power." Isolde nodded. "Of course." She handed him the book.

"Can the Mysterium Xarxes lead us to Camoran?" She asked him. "I don't know," he told her honestly. "Maybe. I suspect that the secret of how to open a portal to Camoran's Paradise lies within these pages. But I will need time. Tampering with such dark secrets, even just reading them, can be very dangerous. I'll have to procceed carefully. In the meantime, I'm glad that you have returned safely," he finished.

Isolde forced a smile as she tried to forget the numerous agents in the caverns that she had to kill. "I'm glad that I've returned safely as well. And you should be careful reading that book, if it's as evil as you say."

A cloud passed through Martin's eyes. "I will," he told her.

There was a moment of silence before Isolde accidentally let out a yawn. "Excuse me," she said, emebarrassed. "But I think I need to rest." Martin nodded with understanding and she left the Great Hall. But no sooner had she walked into the barracks, when Jauffre came to her with another assignment. There had been reports of strangers along the road near the temple for the past few nights and he needed Isolde to find them. He sent her to Captain Steffan for more information, and Steffan told her that the two strangers had been seen repeated times at the runestones near the bottom of the hill, and always near dusk.

Steffan told her to also check Bruma and ask for Captain Burd. He would know if anything had been odd. Jauffre had previously forbidden any of the Blades from leaving the Temple to investigate, so it now fell to her to take care of them. And Isolde instantly knew that 'take care of them' meant kill them. Biting her tongue and fighting her urge to cry at the thought of more killing, Isolde walked down to the runestones and waited for dusk. She waited behind a large tree when, to her luck, a figure came into view. She waited for them to come closer, and then she stepped forward as quietly as she could. Bringing her already unsheathed sword up, she slashed downward and the stranger, a female Dunmer, went down easily. Searching her for any clues as to what she had been up to, Isolde waited for another hour before deciding to go to Bruma. Jogging down to the city, she entered to gates and sought out Burd. Finding him in the castle, he gave her information about a woman named Jearl who had just returned to town. Knowing that she was working with the Blades, he gave her free range to enter Jearl's house. Thankful for the guard's cooperation, Isolde easily found Jearl's house and let herself in. To her great surprise, there was a trapdoor in the middle of the room and it was open, a woman just coming out of it.

"What are you doing here?" She snarled when she saw Isolde. Isolde saw her draw her sword, so she did the same. The woman, an Imperial, slammed the door shut and came at Isolde. "For Lord Dagon!" She screamed as she advanced. Isolde thrust out with her sword, and then parried to the right as the Imperial tried to rush her. "I do not fear death," the spy sneered. She slashed wildly with her sword, striking Isolde across her armored arm. Leaving her mid-section exposed, the Imperial let down her guard for an instant and Isolde struck. Stabbing with the sword, the Breton felt it pierce the skin and slice deeper and deeper into the Imperial. Jearl's eyes were full of hate as she stared at Isolde. Blood pooled at the corner of her mouth and she went down.

"You don't?" Isolde asked, looking down at the body. "I do."

After making sure that she was dead, the Breton opened the trapdoor and jumped down. She tried to take a step forward, but found that she was suddenly overcome with emotion. Her chest felt heavy and tears sprang to her eyes. With a gasp for air, Isolde squatted down and allowed the tears to roll down her cheeks. She thought of the woman at the runestones, and Jearl's dead body laying in her own house, and she sobbed into the crook of her arm. She stayed in that position for five minutes before trying to pull herself together. Rising, she wiped her nose with her hand and began to rifle through Jearl's belongings. She looked around the basement and came upon a scroll containing orders from the Mythic Dawn. Pocketing them, Isolde left the house and gone back to tell Captain Burd of Jeal's fate. Then she left Bruma and headed back to Cloud Ruler. It was nearing midnight, but she found Jauffre in the east wing. Giving him the orders, she asked him if she could go to sleep now.

His face soured a bit and he was just about to tell her that true Blades live on very little sleep, but decided against it. She was new to this life, he reasoned. She would learn to adjust in time. "You may," he told her. Isolde thanked him and walked to the barracks. Taking off her armor, Isolde winced when she saw the red mark on her arm from Jearl's sword. There would be a large bruise there soon. Kicking off her shoes, she fell onto her bed and was alseep instantly.

And then the nightmares started. Faces of bloodied Mythic Dawn agents and the red skinned dremora flooded through her head, allowing her no sleep, only terror. It continued for three nights and every night she would wake up screaming, much to the chagrin of the other Blades. She would leave the barracks and go up to the Great Hall. Martin would always be there working on the Mysterium Xarxes and they took the time alone to talk. After three nights of this, Isolde now considered Martin a friend. And now she sat, on the fourth night, with him in the Great Hall.

"Where were you just now?" He asked her. "You seemed very far away."

Isolde smiled. "I was just thinking of everything from Kvatch until now. My life has changed so much in just a week." Isolde remembered her mother's shop in the Market district. "Just two weeks ago, I was working in my mother's clothing store in the Imperial city. And in truth, most days I would skip out on working to go see friends. And now I'm up here, fighting with the Blades. Helping the Septim heir."

"And I am thankful for your help," Martin told her.

"No shirking my duties now, that's for sure." Isolde smiled and took a sip of wine. "Have you made any progress with the book yet?" Martin nodded. "A little. It speaks of a ritual for opening a door to Paradise and it needs four ingredients. I just haven't discovered what they are. But I will."

"How would a priest of Akatosh know enough to translate an entire Daedric book?" Isolde furrowed her eyebrows. For as much as he now knew about her, she knew very little about Martin's past. "I haven't always been a priest, you know," he told her. He suddenly seemed hesitant. "When I was young, younger than you are now, I became...enthralled with Daedric magic."

"Really?" Her eyes went wide. "What happened?"

Martin shook his head. "It ended badly for all involved," was all he would say, and Isolde did not press him. She held the mug up to her mouth and kept it there, staring into the fire. Martin took this time to study her. Her blonde hair was in a loose bun, and strands were falling down onto her slender neck. He could see the fire reflected in her green eyes; the eyes that were usually the colour of a cold, clear mountain lake looked like the eyes of a Dunmer. She was short, shorter than most Bretons; she only came up to Martin's shoulder. Watching her take a sip of wine, Martin could see the light dusting of freckles that were on her nose and cheeks.

"Martin," she chirped. "What are you staring at?"

Embarassed, Martin quickly looked away. "My apologies. I was just...studying you." Isolde raised an eyebrow and turned her head to look at him. "Studying me? And what do you see?" Martin looked at her face and into her green eyes. "I was just wondering how old you are." Isolde chuckled, as if she didn't believe that's what he was thinking. "I am twenty-one. How old are you?" Martin grinned. "How old do I look?" Isolde tilted her head to the side as she took in the appearance of the man sitting beside her. He didn't look that old, perhaps in his mid-thirties. There were no wrinkles around his bright blue eyes, and Isolde thought that he was rather handsome, especially when his brown hair fell into his eyes. "I'm going to say...thirty-three."

"Close. Thirty-six," he corrected. Isolde reached back and massaged her neck. "Close enough," she muttered.

"Are you sore?" Isolde nodded her head. "It's the pillows down in the barracks," she told him. "It's like laying your head down on a slab of concrete." She wrinkled her nose and drank the last of her wine. Stretching her arms out, she yawned and stood up. "I think I'm ready to try sleeping again," she informed the new Emperor. "That wine did the trick. Thank-you."

Martin also rose. "You are welcome."

"Are you going to stay up here and work on the translation?" She asked. Martin nodded, just as she knew he would. "Good luck," she said. "And goodnight," he responded. He watched Isolde walk through the door, and she quietly tiptoed back to her bedroll. Laying her head down on her hard pillow, Isolde prayed to the Nine that she could sleep the rest of the night. The Nine must have heard her plea, for she slept without another nightmare and in the morning she woke up and made her way into the Great Hall for breakfast. A few of the Blades were already there, along with Martin and Jauffre. Martin was holding the Mysterium Xarxes and he had an excited look on his face. Jauffre saw her enter and waved her over.

"Good morning," she greeted them. "Have you found something?" Isolde motioned to the book. "I have," Martin replied. "The first ingredient for the ritual." Isolde gave a happy cry. "Well? What is it?" "A daedric artifact," Jauffre told her. "Isolde, I need you to travel to one of the shrines and recover such an artifact." These were Jauffre's orders. "Read 'the Modern Heretic'. That book will give you an idea where to find a shrine. Azura's should be easy enough to locate." Isolde nodded. "You must leave at once," the Grandmaster told her.

Her stomach growled in protest. "Can I have breakfast first?" Jauffre gave her a half smile. "Yes. But eat quickly." He left then, leaving Martin and Isolde alone. "I suppose I should continue working on the translations," he told her. Isolde felt fleeting disappointment. "Aren't you going to stay and eat?" She asked. Martin frowned and shook his head. "I'm not hungry. And the quicker I get this finished, the better." Isolde sighed ever so softly and nodded. She understood his logic. He turned to leave but then turned back around. "Isolde, I must stress caution when dealing with the Daedra. With this mission. I wish you didn't have to get mixed up with them, for I know what they are like."

Isolde smiled at his concern. "Thank you for worrying about me. But I shall be fine. And I will be cautious." Nodding his head, Martin turned once again to leave. After she had eaten her fill and read a bit of the book Jauffre had suggested, Isolde walked back down to the barracks to gather her things. As she walked outside to the stables, a memory entered her head. Four years ago, on a trip back from Anvil, she and her mother had stopped at the shrine of Sanguine. It was north of Skingrad, and Isolde was sure that she remembered the location. It was further away than Jauffre had probably wanted her to go, but going to Skingrad would be quicker than roaming the mountains aimlessly in search of shrines. Changing her travel plans, Isolde and her horse left Cloud Ruler and rode down to Bruma, and turned to the right. Riding the Orange road, Isolde had pushed her horse as fast as he could go, but four hours later she was only half way.

Rubbing her backside after she chimbed down from the horse, Isolde led him to a stream and allowed the animal a short rest before continuing on, cutting through the woods after she rode past Chorrol. At a half passed four, the sky was growing dark. So instead of riding to the shrine, Isolde decided that she should spend the night in Skingrad. After stableing her horse, Isolde wandered into town and found a room at the Two Sisters Lodge. After paying her ten gold, she asked the proprietor, Mog gra-Mogakh, if she knew anything about the shrine of Sanguine. The Orc had turned up her nose, but had supplied a helpful tidbit of information.

"If one approaches the shrine of Sanguine, be prepared to offer a bottle of Cyrodiilic brandy," she told Isolde. "Do you have any in town?" Mog gra-Mogakh laughed. "In Skingrad? No, the nobles are the only ones who have it, and they get it shipped straight from the Imperial city." "Thank-you," Isolde said as she climbed up the stairs. Allowing herself to sleep for a few hours, Isolde woke up when the sky was dark. It was two in the morning when she crept down the stairs. Mog gra-Mogakh was gone, pressumably asleep, and Isolde quietly exited the Lodge. Sticking to the shadows, Isolde slowly prowled the streets. After having to walk to the other side of the city, she finally found what she was looking for.

"Noble's houses," she smiled.

There were a few of them, and she picked one at random. Making sure there were no guards around, she pulled out a lockpick, and after several failed attempts, finally got the door opened. Creeping through the house, careful not to run into anything, Isolde made her way into the dining room. There on a shelf were glass bottles of various sizes. She picked up two and read the labels in the moonlight through the windows.

"Surilie Brother's," she whispered. "Aha! Cyrodiilic brandy!" Putting the wine back on the shelf, Isolde nestled the brandy in her arm as she left the house as silently as she had entered it. Thankfully there were no guards about as she walked down the steps, although she passed two as she practically ran to the stables. Mounting her horse after she had lit a torch, she kicked it into a canter and made her way to the shrine of Sanguine. Passing Bleak Flats cave, Isolde quickly came upon the shrine of Sanuine. Sliding off the horse, Isolde stopped walking when a follower approached her.

"Would you like to speak to Sanguine?" Isolde nodded. The follower, a Bosmer, grinned. "In order to summon Sanguine, you must leave him an offering of Cyrodiilic brandy." Isolde pulled it from her pack and the Bosmer stood back. Walking to the shrine, Isolde placed the bottle on the ground.

_"Ahh," _exclaimed a voice that seemed to come from all around her. _"Another mortal come to beg Sanguine to add a bit of spice to an otherwise drab existence. I would have you perform a service for me. The castle Leyawiin is a dull, dreary place. The mistress is an especially somber soul, and tomorrow she will hold another excrutiating dinner party. I want you to liven it up. Use this spell on the Countess and her guests. I think it will make the party much more interesting. You should probably try to be inconspicuous. Or they might kill you. Oh, and the party is by invitation only. You'll have to find a way in. Have fun!" _

The voice stopped and Isolde didn't even think about refusing. Walking back to her horse, she stroked his neck. "Do you feel like carrying me to Leyawiin?" Pawing at the ground, the horse tossed his head. "I'll take that as a yes," Isolde said, climbing on. Riding back to Skingrad, Isolde turned onto the Gold road and began her long journey to Leyawiin.

She returned to Cloud Ruler three days later as the sun was setting, and went straight into the Great Hall. To her surprise, Martin wasn't there. 'Hmm,' she thought. 'I thought for sure he would be at his table translating that book.' Pelagius was there, drinking a mug of ale.

"Pelagius," she called. "Do you know where Martin is?" The Blade nodded. "In his quarters." She nodded her thanks and left for the west wing. Walking up to the door of Martin's room, she knocked three times. Baurus opened the door and smiled when he saw her. "Rozenn, welcome back. We were starting to get worried."

He let her in and she spied Martin sitting at a small desk. 'It figures.'

"Well, it turned out differently than I thought it would. It's quite the story, I'll have to tell you later," she grinned. "Here Martin," she held up the daedric artifact, a staff shaped like a rose. Isolde had thought it very pretty. Martin saw it and he gasped ever so quietly.

"How did you get this? Where is Azura's artifact?"

"Oh, I didn't go to Azura," she said.

"You went to Sanguine's shrine instead?"

Isolde nodded. "Yes. My mother showed me his shrine four years ago when we were coming home from Anvil, so I remembered where it was. Martin, what's wrong?" Martin's grip on the quill he was holding had tightened so that his knuckles were white, and his eyes had clouded over. He placed the quill on the table, and took the Rose as he stood up. "I never thought to see this again. I possessed once it, briefly. A lifetime ago, it seems now."

She and Baurus exchanged glances as Martin closed his eyes. "Martin," Isolde said hesitantly. "Are you..."

"You should have gone to Azura!" He snapped.

"I...But this is..."

"Baurus, leave us," Martin said forcefully. The Redguard shot her a look as he left the room. "Martin, what is the matter with you?" Isolde asked.

"I told you how I became caught up in daedric magic?"

Isolde nodded.

"Well, Sanguine was my patron, so to speak. As a young man, I grew impatient with the Mages Guild restrictions, as did many of my fellow apprentices. We threw ourselves into the riddles of daedric magic. We hungered for forbidden secrets. Knowledge and powere were our gods and I came into possession of the Sanguine Rose. You can guess the rest. We got in over our heads. People died. My friends died. I've put those days behind me. But the bitter wisdom that one has been a fool is not without value. And now here it is again." He sighed and and the Rose fell to his side. "It would have been safer to go to Azura."

Isolde was shocked by what she had just learned about Martin. His friends had all died because of this artifact? "But you don't know that," she pointed out after a moment. "Azura's quest might have been dangerous. Sanguine's wasn't. All I had to do was go to Leyawiin."

Martin placed the Rose on his table. "And do what?"

Isolde allowed herself to grin. "All I had to do was cast a harmless little spell on the Countess there." "What kind of spell?" Martin was afraid of the outcome for the poor Countess. But Isolde started laughing despite her best efforts to hold it in. "She was having a dinner party, and Sanguine gave me a spell to...liven her up. I cast it and she and all her guests were suddenly in their undergarments!" Martin could feel a smile tug at his mouth as he listened to Isolde laugh.

"And you think that sort of thing is funny, do you?" He asked. Isolde thought back to the nearly naked Countess screeching and trying to cover herself with her dinner plate, and laughed again. "Yes," she got out in between fits of giggles. "Very much so." As much as Martin hated to have anything to do with Sanguine or his Rose again, he was glad to see Isolde laughing after what she had been going through. "And how did you ecape the clutches of the guards?" He asked her.

A blush spread quickly over her face. "I didn't," Isolde replied. "The spell caught me as well, so when he ran in, I was standing in my undergarments just like the rest of them! But I had cast a charm spell on him before I got into the room. He paid my bounty for me."

He then eyed her warily. "Carrying the Rose for as long as you have, do you feel...different?" Isolde furrowed her brow, confused. "What do you mean?" Martin sighed. "After one has had the staff for a time, they begin to feel things...want things...things it seems only Sanguine can offer."

"You mean, do I want to dance naked and have an orgy?" Isolde had the pleasure of seeing Martin's cheeks grow pink. "No. Nor do I suddenly yearn to use the power of the Rose. The staff had no effect on me, Martin. Do not worry so." She watched him as he watched the Rose. It seemed odd to know that this pretty staff had caused so much heartache for Martin. Isolde saw him rub his chin with a hand. "It is quite a powerful weapon," he told her quietly. "To obtain this, and then give it up..." He turned to her with a small smile. "I honour your dedication to our cause." Isolde nodded. "Of course, Martin."

Martin stared at this young woman, she whom he considered a friend. The Breton's hair was in a braid, and wisps of her blonde hair were falling onto her face. He had a brief thought about what she would look like in her undergarments, and he quickly pulled it from his mind. What was he doing? He had to stop thinking of Isolde like that! He had far too much research to do to even think about getting involved with Isolde...whose green eyes sparkled when she laughed. 'Stop it,' he told himself. 'Besides, Isolde is your friend. Just a friend.' Clearing his throat, Martin picked the Rose up and put it in one of his trunks. "Come on," he said to her. "You must be hungry." Isolde nodded and she followed Martin into the Great Hall for dinner. One of the servants had already placed Martin's plate on a table next to the fire, and all of the Blades sat at one table at the other end of the hall.

"Aren't you going to sit with them?" Martin asked her. Isolde looked to the table of Blades and then back at Martin. His blue eyes were troubled as he watched them. Almost sad. "If it's alright, I...I was planning to sit with you." Martin looked down at her and smiled. "Yes, I would like that." Martin motioned for a servant to bring another plate of food as the pair sat down. "Martin," she asked when the maid brought her food and wine. "Are you glad to be here?" He turned his head to look at her. "Of course. Here, I can work on stopping Dagon. It is much better than what I was doing in Kvatch."

"Do you not miss being a priest?" She asked. Martin shook his head. "I fear that the Gods have forsaken us. But there I was telling folk that the Gods turn all things to good. Pure hypocrisy." Isolde's mouth formed an 'O'. "You have lost faith in the Gods?" Martin shrugged. "Perhaps." Isolde took a sip of wine. "But what I meant was, are you happy here? You seemed...sad just now." All of the sudden it dawned on her as she saw how much empty space there was between their table and the Blades'.

"Martin, you aren't lonely here, are you?" She half expected him to say no, that he was too busy to socialize with the Blades, but he surpised her. "Yes, I suppose I am," he admitted. 'How sad,' she thought to herself. "Don't you talk with any of the Blades?" Martin shook his head. "Only you and Jauffre. And perhaps Baurus."

"But why?"

Martin thought about it. "Perhaps it's because they see me just as the Emperor, someone they must guard. They are just my protectors, and it seems that you are my only friend here." Isolde couldn't help but grin when she heard that.

"You must have had friends in Kvatch?" She asked as she took a bite of cheese. "No, it was as it is here. To the people of Kvatch, I was just a priest. Someone to go to when they needed Akatosh's blessing. Other than that, they didn't speak to me much. It didn't bother me, though. My duties at the chapel kept me too busy to worry about socializing. Here at the Temple I have much to do, as well. It is just as well, I haven't the time for idle talk."

Isolde smiled. "That's what I thought you would say," she told him. "Speaking of, have you made any headway with the translation?" She asked. Martin shook his head. "The next section of the Mysterium Xarxes is proving very difficult. I haven't deciphered the rest of the ritual yet."

"And in the meantime, what else can I do to help?" Martin smiled at her. "Ah Isolde, always so eager to help. There is something, actually. You should talk to Jauffre, he needs your help. Trouble down in Bruma, I think." Isolde looked down at her plate of tasty food. She put the last few bites into her mouth and smiled as Martin chuckled at her.

"I suppose I should go find him, then." She bid goodbye to Martin and left in search of the Grandmaster. She found him outside and approached him. "Martin told you I needed to see you? Good. I've just received word from the Countess of Bruma that an Oblivion Gate has opened up outside of the city," he explained. "It seems that the Mythic Dawn are putting their plan to attack Bruma into motion. Since you have dealt with these Gates before, I'd like you to help the Countess' guards close this gate. Once they've seen how it's done, they should be able to handle any new gates on their own."

Isolde's heart nearly stopped in her chest. 'Another gate?' She thought to herself. 'By the Gods! The first one was pure dumb luck!' But Isolde could see Jauffre's point in sending her. She was the only person to close an Oblivion Gate. Logically, it only made sense that she go. "Alright, I'll go."

Jauffre nodded. "Captain Burd is waiting for you outside the Bruma city gate. He'll show you the Oblivion Gate. Although I doubt it will be hard to find." Jauffre sent her to don her armor and she strapped it on quickly. Putting on her helmet, she walked back outside and got on to her already saddled horse. She left the Temple and made her way to Bruma, where she easily found the Gate and Captain Burd.

"Thanks for coming," the Captain told her when he saw her approach. "Since we had the Hero of Kvatch available, I didn't think it made sense to try this on our own the first time. We're ready when you are. Just say the word and we'll follow you into that hell-spawned Gate." Isolde took a moment to catch her breath. When she was sure that her nerves would not fail her, she said, "Follow me." Burd nodded. "Alright. Give me a minute to talk to the men. Everyone's a bit jumpy right now." He walked over to where the guards were standing in a frightened group.

"Alright boys, listen up. We've got to close that Gate over there. Nobody likes the idea of going into that thing, but it's our job and we're going to do it. If we don't, Bruma will end up a smoking pile of rubble like what happened at Kvatch. And that's not going to happen here! Not while I'm Captain of the Guard! Bor, Soren, you're with me. The rest of you, stay outside and kill anything that comes out of that Gate. Let's show these bastards how we do things in Bruma!" The men cheered. "We're with you, Captain!" They cried. Burd turned back to Isolde.

"Nice speech," she told him. Burd only smiled grimly. "Come one, then. Let's go. If a little Breton like you can do it alone, we should have no problem in a group of four." They ran up to the Gate and entered. Isolde held her breath as a wave a heat hit her face and she could smell ash on the air. Burd and his two men entered right after her, and they didn't waste any time talking, they fell in behind Isolde and followed her up the path. Right away they encountered scamps, but they were dealt with by Burd and his men. Moving quickly through down the path and dodging towers that spit out fireballs, they soon came upon the main tower, the Fury Spike.

"We've got to get out of here," she heard Burd whisper. "We will," Isolde told him with a confidence that she didn't really feel. "I sure hope you know what you're doing." Leading them through another door and up the tower, Isolde put her sword to good use as she ran into dremora and scamps on every level. Finally, coming to the last floor, Isolde tried the door to the Sigillum Sanguis only to find it locked. "Damn," she swore. But from her left came a great roar as a dremora came at her. "Kill him," she ordered. "He holds the key to the door." The guards did as she told them and hacked at the dremora until he no longer moved. They searched his body and handed Isolde the key. Unclocking the door, Isolde led them into the Sagillum Sanguis, up the stairs and to the Sigil Stone. She reached out for it, but Burd held her back.

"Are you mad? It will burn you!" As grateful as she was for his concern, Isolde just shrugged off his grip and reached into the fire. The men sheilded their eyes as a blinding light appeared, and they looked shocked to find themselves back in Bruma. The remaining guards ran up to them and cheered. "You did it, Captain! You closed the Oblivion Gate! We didn't think we would ever see you alive again!" Burd took off his helmet and wiped the sweat from his brow. "Believe me, it was no picnic. But thanks to our friend here, I now know we can close these hell-gates. We can defend Bruma!" He turned to Isolde and led her away from his men. "It was an honour to serve with you, ma'am. Now that I've seen how it's done, I think my guardsmen and I can handle any new Gates that open near Bruma." Isolde shook his outstretched hand and walked back to her horse, who was tied up a safe distance away. Climbing on, she rode back to Cloud Ruler and searched for Jauffre. He was in one of the watchtowers and he walked to her when he saw her.

"Were you able to help Captain Burd and his men close the Oblivion Gate?"

"Yes, it is done."

He smiled. "Good work. Burd and his men should be able to handle any additional Gates. At least, for now. But the Bruma Guard cannot defend the city indefinitely. The daedra of Oblivion are innumerable; the guardsmen of Bruma are not. We need to gather what allies we can before Bruma is hopelessly besieged. If the Mythic Dawn manages to open a Great Gate here, the city will need a stronger garrison for there to be any hope of defending it."

"Yes, of course they will," Isolde agreed. "Therefore I have decided that you should speak to the rulers of the other cities of Cyrodiil, as well as the Elder Council. Ask them to send aid to Bruma before it is too late."

Isolde stood in front of the Grandmaster, dumbstruck. This was an enormous task, and apparently she was to do it alone. Finding her tongue, Isolde only asked when he wanted her to leave. "As soon as possible. There is no time to waste with the Mythic Dawn still about." Isolde could only walk away after promising to leave at dawn's first light. She walked into the Great Hall and saw Martin sitting at his table. He heard her approaching and he looked up. "How was the Gate?" Isolde sighed and sat down. "Like it was the first time," she answered. "Hot and stinking of death."

Martin frowned and he reached across the table and patted her hand. Isolde smiled. "Jauffre has ordered me to leave to Temple and ride to the other cities to get more men to help Bruma," she told him. Martin made a sound of surprise.

"All of them?"

Isolde nodded.

"When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow morning, at dawn. To think, I will be talking to the Counts and Countesses of all the cities!" She gave a nervous little laugh. "I hope I don't mess it up. I always seem to say the wrong things when it counts the most." Martin got up from his chair and came around to sit next to Isolde on the bench, facing the opposite direction. Isolde felt her skin tingle as they sat shoulder to shoulder. They had only ever been this close once before, when they shared the same horse.

"I'm sure you will do well," he soothed. Isolde only shrugged. "You seem to manage just fine with me. If you can talk to the Emperor, I'm sure you can handle the Counts and Countesses." She turned her head and her blonde hair fanned out behind her. "That's different, we're friends! Sometimes I forget that you're the Emperor," she admitted. Cocking her head to the side, Isolde had a thought pop into her head.

"Martin, if we survive this...oh, how silly of me, of course we will. What I mean is, when we make it to the Imperial City to have you crowned, will we...will we still be friends?"

Martin frowned. "Do you think that I would just cast you aside once I assume the throne?" Isolde shook her head. "No, of course not, that isn't what I meant. But that's exactly what I'm talking about, me never saying the right thing. No, I just meant that you are going to have so much work to do, ruling an Empire and all that. I just wonder that if I ever come to visit you in the palace, will you have the time to see me?"

Martin's frown faded away into a smile. "Silly Isolde. I will make the time to see you, of course! If you can keep forgetting that I am the Emperor, I think I might want you around all the time."

Isolde giggled. "To keep you from getting a big head, your Imperial Majesty?"

Martin scoffed. "None of that," he told her. "That's exactly why I would keep you around. To keep me feeling...normal." Isolde nodded. "I can do that," she promised. There was silence as Martin rubbed his chin with his hand. "It is a beautiful place, isn't it?" He asked her suddenly.

"What is?"

"The Imperial City. I haven't been back since I was an apprentice at the University, but I still remember the White Gold Tower, and how stunning it looks in the moonlight."

"Or any light," Isolde put in. "My favourite area has always been the Arboretum, with the pretty gardens and the statues of the gods. I find it very calming to be there."

"We will have to go there when you come to visit me, then," Martin announced. Isolde smiled and nodded. "I would like that." Isolde suddenly became aware of how close they were. Both of their heads had moved closer together, and Isolde found herself wondering if he was going to kiss her. When he didn't, there was a feeling of disappointment that she quickly forced away. "I should probably go to bed," she whispered. "I have to leave..." "At dawn," Martin finished for her. "Yes, it is getting rather late." He stood up first, allowing Isolde to push out the bench and rise. "Where do you think you'll start?" He asked her. "Probably Cheydinhal. Then I can loop around the Imperial city and go south." Martin walked with her to the west wing door. "Are you going to sleep?"

He shook his head. "No. I should get back to work on the Mysterium Xarxes."

"You should get some rest as well, you know." He shrugged. "I do sleep," he protested. "Hardly." Isolde grinned but left the subject alone. "I suppose I should say goodbye. I won't be back for awhile." Martin took her into his arms in a soft hug. "Please be careful," he told her. "I will," she said. She broke apart from him with a small smile. "I would hate for you to have to go to the Arboretum alone, after all." Martin chuckled as he watched her walk through the door and into the barracks.


	3. Chapter 2

She arrived unexpectedly back at the Temple just two days later. Martin saw her running out of the stables and he walked towards her. "Isolde, what are you doing here?" He asked her. "You're suppose to be gathering allies for Bruma?" As he got closer, he saw her tearstained face. "Isolde, are you alright? Are you hurt?" She shook her head as her chin quivered and Martin took her hand and led her into the building. He took her into his quarters and shut the door. Sitting her on the bed, Martin kneeled before her. "Now, tell me what has happened."

Drawing in a ragged breath, Isolde forced herself to speak despite the lump in her throat. "I killed him!"

Martin was confused. "Who?"

"Bremman," she sobbed. "I...He and the Count's son were inside the gate. They're both dead! Martin, I cannot do this anymore." Tears rolled down her cheeks. "Shh," Martin soothed. "Just breath and start from the beginning," he told her softly. Isolde took a few big gulps of air and her breathing soon returned to normal. "There, that's better," he smiled. "Now start from the beginning," he said again. Isolde nodded. "I...I went to Cheydinhal and asked the Count for help, but he told me that he had his own Gate to worry about before he could think about sending help to Bruma. So obviously he wanted me to close it for him. I went out to the Gate and one of the guards stopped me. They said that the Count's son Farwil had gone in with a group of young men, calling themselves the Knights of the Thorn, but they hadn't come out yet. So I told the man that I was going in, and that I would look for him. I went through the Gate and began the quest to get the Sigil Stone, and when I exited some caves, I came across the Count's son and one other man. They were the only men left. I promised them that they would be safe."

Isolde's face began to crumble.

"But a dremora attacked us. Farwil was killed. Bremman and I continued on after I had taken Farwil's signet ring to bring back to his father. We were almost at the main tower when we were attacked by more dremoa and a few scamps. I was caught up in trying to kill them all, I wasn't paying attention to Bremman. And then I felt someone at my back, and I turned around..."

She stared at the ceiling, trying to blink the tears away and failing.

"I didn't think. I just reacted. I turned around and brought my sword down. But it was Bremman." Isolde began to sob and Martin took her into his arms. "By the Nine, Martin, the look on his face...I'm no Blade, I'm a murderer!" Martin rubbed her back soothingly. "Isolde, you cannot say that, it was just an accident. Think of how many people in Cheydinhal you saved by closing that Gate." But Isolde shook her head.

"I don't know if I can keep doing this," she told him, pulling away and looking into his eyes. "After I closed the Gate in Bruma I felt alright, I felt like I could close all the Gates. But now? I don't want to be a Blade anymore. I just feel like running away." She let out a harsh laugh. "A true Blade would never feel like running away," she scoffed. "I'm a coward!"

Martin tsk-ed. He cupped her cheek with his right hand. "Now listen to me, Isolde. You are no coward. You have done things that the other Blades could only dream of. You have seen things that nobody should see. It's normal to want to run away from a crisis like this. But you stay, because you know that people need you."

"But poor Bremman," she protested.

"His death was an accident. Listen to me. People are going to die; that is the way of it. I have come to this realization. You cannot protect everyone, Isolde. And you not a coward," he told her again. "You are brave, and kind." He wiped a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb. She sniffed and wiped her tears away, trying to smile.

She looked up into his eyes and felt her stomach clentch. Martin's heartbeat quickened in his chest as he felt Isolde's hand snake up and cover his on her cheek. Martin was silent as his hand slid to cup the back of her neck. He pulled her ever so slightly forward and Isolde allowed herself to be pulled.

"Martin?" She whispered.

"Shh." His lips slowly, hesitantly, touched hers and Isolde leaned into him. Opening her mouth, she licked his lips with her tongue, wanting entry. But Martin pulled away and stood up. "I am sorry," he said quickly. He turned away and Isolde felt her face burn. She stood up as well and touched his arm. He turned around and grabbed her hand. "Isolde, you must forgive me," he begged. "I was not thinking. You...you are my friend, my only friend here, and I would hate to ruin that."

Biting her lip, Isolde slowly nodded. "Not to worry, Martin. You have ruined nothing. I..." She broke off and looked to the ground. "I should be leaving Cloud Ruler again anyways. I feel better now," she grinned cheekily at him, making him half smile. "Thank you, though. For comforting me." Martin cleared his throat and nodded. "It was nothing. But remember what I have said. You can do this, Isolde."

Isolde nodded and the pair walked out of his quarters. He walked her back outside to the stables and helped her up onto her horse. His hand lingered on her calf and they stared at each other. "I will not see you for some time now, will I?" Isolde shook her head. "No. I cannot return to Cloud Ruler after every Gate, it would only take up valuable time."

"Be careful, Isolde," he beseeched her. Nodding solemnly, Isolde picked up the reins. "I will."

With one last goodbye, Isolde clicked her tongue and the horse began to trot down the steps and down the road. Her next stop was Chorrol, and like the Count of Cheydinhal, Countess Valga asked her to close her Gate before she would consider sending soldiers. Isolde had squared her shoulders and walked out the main gates, making her way to the door to Oblivion. Entering the firey gate, Isolde didn't waste time looking around every corner like she had the last two times. Instead, thinking of Bremman and Martin's words, she ran through the plane, cutting through scamps and dremora with unrestrained hatred. She made it to the main tower in what seemed like minutes and raced up it to the top. She heard a growling laugh as she entered the Sigillum Sanguis and was face to face with a scamp. Hissing as it jumped at her, Isolde sneered as she brought her sword down, severing its head. She wasn't about to let one lone scamp stop her from closing this Gate. Running up the steps, Isolde thrust her hand into the flames without the fear she had at the last two gates, and grabbed on tight to the Sigil Stone.

Shielding her eyes against the bright white that always came from the closing of a Gate, Isolde landed hard on her back and she found herself back outside of Chorrol. Groaning as she stood, she put the Stone in her pack and walked as quick as she could back to the Countess. She had left the town as soon as the Countess promised to sent men to Bruma, and made her way to the next town. For the next week and a half, Isolde had ridden across Cyrodiil to all of the major towns, to help them with their Gates in exchange for help for Bruma. She had now closed seven out of the eight Oblivion Gates, and as an odd tribute to Bremman's memory, she killed everything inside with a savage ferocity that she didn't know she possessed. As she entered the gates of Leyawiin, she thought of the last time she was here and allowed herself a laugh.

Walking to the castle, she hoped the the Countess wouldn't remember her. But thankfully it was only the Count who was in the Great Hall and Isolde had to refrain from sighing as this meeting went just as the others did. Count Caro's men were too cowradly to enter the Gate, so Isolde had to close it for them. She went about it mechanically; the eighth Gate was no different than the first. She had realized that three Gates ago. The dremora were no more than a minor annoyance to her as she raced through the plane and up to the tower. She narrowly missed being scewered by the spears that came out of the walls. Breathing a sigh of relief, Isolde continued on up to the doors of the Sigillum Sanguis. Walking through the doors, Isolde did as she had done seven other times. She ran up the stairs onto the thin red membrane and took the Sigil Stone from the flames.

As the light took her back to Leyawiin, she found that there were tears coming from her eyes. Wiping them away, Isolde stood in the Gate ruins and felt a weight being lifted from her shoulders. "They are all closed," Isolde said aloud. Laughing to herself, she left the ruins and walked back to Castle Leyawiin. Count Caro had thanked her and because of her bravery, promised to send his finest men to Bruma. Isolde smiled at him, ecstatic to finally be done with these evil gates. Bidding the Count goodbye in a friendlier manner than she had said hello, she left Leyawiin and got on her horse. Patting his neck, she turned him north up the Green Road and kicked him into a canter. She was in a hurry to return to Cloud Ruler.

'And to see Martin,' she thought. Isolde missed him while she had been gone. She hoped that he had missed her, as well. It seemed that he would creep into her thoughts when she least expected it, and her when she thought about their kiss, her stomach would become filled with butterflies. "Stop it," she would tell herself. "You are just friends." Looking to the sky, Isolde watched the sun set and she cursed her luck that she had only made it as far as Bravil. With more than a week's worth of fatigue threatening to catch up with her, Isolde turned into Bravil and stabled her horse. As she walked through the main gates, she was hailed by the guards as a hero, and given the best rooms at the Silverhome on the Water, much to the honour of Gilgondorin, the Altmer who ran the inn. She left at dawn's first light and rode to the Imperial City. The guards at the Imperial Palace told her that the High Chancellor was too busy to see her, so she decided to go visit her mother instead.

She walked to her mother's shop and there was a tearful reunion on both of their parts. Her mother begged her to stay the night and Isolde, although anxious to return to the Temple, agreed. Closing her shop early, her mother had insisted on cooking her daughter a large dinner, convinced that Isolde had gotten too thin. After dinner, feeling like a fattened goose, Isolde climbed the stairs to her room and fell asleep as soon as the candles were out. As requested, her mother had woken Isolde up at dawn so that she could bathe, and then walked with her to the Chestnut Handy Stables. Sofia pet the horse and gave a sad smile.

"You've always wanted a horse." Isolde nodded. "I'm so proud of you, Isolde," her mother told her. "Do not get me wrong, I could ring your neck for putting yourself into such danger." Isolde laughed. "And your poor cousins were worried sick when you just left your cell with the Emperor! But you are helping to save all of Cyrodiil. And...and..." Sofia couldn't finish through the tears. She just pulled her daughter close and hugged her.

"Thank you, mother. Your words mean so much to me. But I have to get going." Sofia nodded and let her daughter go. "Oh, here," she said, pulling a parcel from the bag at her side. Opening it up, Isolde saw that her mother had packed a black silk gown with gold and burgundy embroidery. "Mother, this is beautiful! But when am I ever going to get a chance to wear this?" Her mother shrugged. "I don't know. But with you being around the new Emperor all day..."

"Mother!" Isolde was shocked. "Martin and I...Martin and I are just friends."

But Sofia spied her daughter's blush. "Of course, dear." Rolling her eyes, Isolde hugged her mother once more and got up on her horse. "Goodbye, Isolde. I love you, daughter." Isolde smiled sadly, wondering when she would see her mother next. "I love you too, mother." Turning the horse down the steep hill, she rode across the high bridge and turned right onto the Red Ring Road. She had ran her horse so hard that by the time she got to the Silver Road turn off, there was a layer of foamy sweat on the horse's neck. Slowing to a walk, Isolde apologized to the animal and got off so that she could lead him to a tiny stream for a drink and a rest. As the horse grazed for a moment, Isolde eyed her mother's parcel. Pushing her lips together, she unwrapped it again. "It is very pretty." Biting her lower lip, Isolde looked around to see if there were any travellers nearby.

Walking behind a tree, she slipped off her armor and pulled on the dress. She sighed with pleasure as the silk fell against her skin and after some trouble, she laced up the back, pulling it tight against her flat stomach. She walked to her horse and was amazed at how light her steps felt. "I suppose walking without the armor you've worn for nearly two weeks will have an odd effect on a person's gait." She picked up the horse's reins. "Are you ready to get moving again?" The horse nickered softly. "Alright then, lets get moving." Jumping on, Isolde cursed having to ride side saddle. But it was either that or ride with the dress around her waist. Somehow she didn't think Jauffre would approve if she rode into Cloud Ruler like that. Laughing to herself, she continued on the Silver Road until she saw the high walls of Bruma.

"Thank the Gods," she sighed. She wanted nothing more than to have something to drink and then fall down on her bedroll. "Won't the other Blades be happy?" She asked her horse. "I haven't had nightmares since the Chorrol Gate." Riding past Bruma, Isolde had been content to walk up the mountian, but her horse broke out into a fast canter until they reached the gates. "Someone is eager to get home," she said to him. Neighing, he ran up the stone steps and stopped to allow Isolde to get off. Jena was on guard duty that afternoon and she walked to Isolde with a smile on her face.

"Isolde," she greeted the younger woman warmly. "So you've returned to us safely? I'm happy to see it."

"Thank you, Jena. I'm very happy to be back. Is Martin inside?" The Imperial nodded. "As always. He's done nothing but read that evil rubbish since you left. But you should be able to pull him out of it. Oh," she said as she and Isolde neared the door. "Nice dress." Isolde blushed as she entered the Great Hall. Spying Martin in the back corner of the room, she walked over to him. He didn't hear her.

"Hasn't anybody ever told you? Reading in the dark is bad for your eyes." She grinned as he looked up, slightly confused, until he saw who was speaking to him. "Isolde!" He stood up from his chair and embraced her tightly. Momentarily stunned, Isolde wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him back. "I'm happy you are back." He broke apart and looked at her, his hands on her shoulders. "Are all the Gates closed, then?" Isolde nodded and was graced with a relieved smile from Martin. "Thank the Gods. And are you unharmed?" Isolde nodded again. "For the most part. Armor is a delightful thing, my friend. Apart from a few rather large bruises, I am fine." His left hand moved up the cup her cheek. "And this?" He ran his thumb over a small scar just under her eye. "Scamp claw," she told him. "The armor doesn't shield everything. I'm lucky that it's small."

"You must be a very skilled fighter by now."

"I have definately improved," Isolde told him confidently. "But I was very lucky. The gods were watching out for me, that's for sure."

There was a moment of silence.

"Then Akatosh heard my prayers after all," Martin said.

Goosebumps ran down Isolde's spine as his thumb continued to stroke her cheek ever so lightly and she could feel her heart in her throat. She looked up at his face and saw that he was looking down at her dress. "Martin?" Martin had been staring at her, and her voice broke him out of his short trance. "Isolde! I'm sorry." He quickly brought his hand away from her cheek. "I don't mean to stare. It's just...you look so different." Isolde blushed, suddenly embarrassed. "It's this dress. My mother gave it to me when I saw her. I don't even know why I bothered putting it on. I...I should go change before anyone else sees me."

She made a move to turn around, but Martin gently grabbed onto her wrist. "No, don't. It suits you. You should keep it on." Martin gave a half smile as Isolde's face turned bright red. "Thank you, Martin." Martin didn't pull his hand away from her wrist, much to Isolde's surprise. He cleared his throat. "Isolde," he said in a quiet voice. "I find that I am feeling rather..."

"Rozenn!" The door to the east wing slammed shut and Pelagius walked towards the two with a broad smile on his face. "I heard you were back." Isolde nodded and then turned her head back to Martin. "What were you about to say?" She asked. Martin took his hand off of her wrist and looked to the ground. "It...it was nothing. Nevermind. Please excuse me," he said to Pelagius and he walked to the door that led to his quarters. Isolde stared after him, but turned back to the red headed Blade. "You owe us some stories, Rozenn," he informed the Breton. "And they had better be good."

Isolde laughed and allowed herself to be dragged by Pelagius down to the east wing where most of the Blades eagerly awaited her tales. Over mugs of mead, she told them of the Gates; of the Planes of Oblivion and the creatures that resided there. When she described each of the towers, Isolde noticed that one by one, the Blades' eyes became filled with awe and she could see a new respect on their faces. It warmed her to know that she had risen to a new level within their ranks. She was a true Blade now and they told her so. "You know what this means," Arcturus told her. "Your first guard duty." The rest of the Blades laughed, but Isolde didn't mind. "I could use some quiet time after all that." She agreed to take night shift the next day, which left her plenty of time in between. She finished her mead and stood up from the table.

"If you don't mind, I think I need to get some sleep." Isolde left the east wing and headed for the west. She walked through the door and was about to turn right to go down into the barracks when she heard her name. Creeping up the hall, she heard Jauffre and Martin talking in Jauffre's room.

"And what about what Isolde wants?" Jauffre asked. "I'm sure she would like to be included in this conversation before you make the decision for her." She heard Martin sigh. "Isolde would understand why it has to be this way, why we cannot be together. Think of the Mysterium Xarxes, Jauffre! Working on the translation is too important for me not to give it my full attentions. These are uncertain times, Jauffre, and I think it would be selfish to put my wants above the needs of Cyrodiil."

From outside the doorway, Isolde was shocked. They were talking about her? That would mean that Martin had feelings for her. At first her heart soared, but then she realized that Martin didn't want to have feelings for her.

"Mara help you," she heard Jauffre say. "These are uncertain times, Martin, as you have said. Which is why we must seize every opportunity for happiness that we can. I have seen the way she looks at you, Martin. She loves you, whether she knows it or not. Will you not tell her how you feel, at least?"

Martin sighed. "It cannot be, Jauffre, so what is the point? I am so close to translating the second item needed, and I cannot have any interferences with retrieving the Amulet of Kings, Isolde included."

Isolde bit her lip. Was that all he saw her as? An interference? Isolde put her head against the stone wall, her heart aching as if it were held in a tight grip. She could feel the tears stinging her eyes and she willed them away. "Mara help you," Jauffre said again. "May she knock some sense into that head of yours."

Isolde heard Jauffre slide open his door and she hurried back into the barracks. So that was how Martin felt about her? She was interfering with the quest for the Amulet? Anger came to her first. How dare he! She had risked her life again and again for him. She thought they were friends, at least. To say that she was an interference was a slap in the face. And then the sadness washed over her in heavy waves.

He did not want to be with her.

That was what hurt the most, she found. Isolde felt her chin quiver and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from crying. She couldn't cry over him, not at the Temple at least. She decided that she had to get away. Waiting until she got her emotions under control, Isolde changed into plain leather pants and a red tunic and walked out of the barracks through the side door. Walking to the stables, she quickly saddled her horse and hopped on, leading him down the stone steps and out the gate. In mere minutes she was in Bruma, and she made her way to Olav's tap and tack. She walked in and stared at Olav, the owner.

"I need to rent a room for the night." The big man saw the sorrow on her face and nodded. "10 gold a night," he told her. Isolde handed him her money and he gave her a key. "It's upstairs, second door on the right." She went upstairs and into her room, where she locked the door and lay down on the bed. There, she allowed the tears to fall from her eyes and soon she was sobbing into her pillow as she thought about Martin and what she had heard. When the last tear had fallen, Isolde roused herself and stood up. Looking into a small mirror on the wall, she ran her fingers through her hair and waited until her face was no longer red and puffy before she left the room. She walked back downstairs and sat at the bar.

"Ale, please." The Nord didn't say anything, he just handed her a tankard. She had never really liked ale, but it was cheap and it would do the trick. Chugging it in a most unlady-like fashion, she burped into her hand and ordered another. Three tankards later, Isolde felt much better. Of course, she was drunk, but that was beside the point. She had been making friends with the most cordial of Dunmers and he had just offered to buy her another drink.

"Why not?" Isolde said, and he ordered her a pint of mead. She happily accepted it from Olav and grinned as the honey wine touched her tongue. "So," the Dunmer said, sliding his stool closer to Isolde. "I never did catch your name." "Isolde," the Breton told him as she drank deeply from her mug. "And what would a beautiful Breton like you be doing in a place like this?" He ignored Olav's look of indignation.

His question made Isolde sigh heavily. "I'm...I...ran away." "From what?" The Dunmer asked, moving slightly closer. Isolde thought of Martin and sniffled. Her hands fell onto the bar with a loud thud. "From someone...he said things...he doesn't want me." Temporarily ignoring the Dunmer, Isolde wiped at her face, trying to get rid of the tears that had erupted in her eyes. "I've done so much for him," she told the dark elf, hiccupping. "And he said I was an inter...hic!...interference!"

The Dunmer placed his hand on top of hers and rubbed it with his thumb. "You poor dear," he cooed. Isolde didn't really like his hand there, but she let him keep it where it was. 'Martin doesn't want to hold my hand,' she thought to herself. The elf then ran his hand up her arm and it stayed on her shoulder, and her inebriated mind suddenly realized that getting drunk alone in a room full of strangers wasn't such a good idea. Luckily, at that moment, fate stepped in.

"Rozenn!" Hearing her voice, Isolde turned around to see Baurus and Fortis standing in the inn. "Hello," she cried out, slightly relieved. The Redguard and the Imperial walked toward her and Baurus threw off the elf's hand. "Hey, I saw her first," he protested. Baurus glared dangerously at him. "If you want to keep that hand," he said coldly. "I suggest you leave." Taking his advice, the Dunmer hurriedly ran off. "Rozenn, what in the name of Talos are you doing here?" He sat down on the vacated stool and stared at the Breton. She shrugged. "I wanted to leave for a little bit, is all," she replied. Baurus could hear her slurring her words and he had to stifle a grin. "So you came to Bruma and drank yourself under the table?"

Isolde nodded. "Looks that way."

Baurus sighed. "What's this about?" He asked her. But Isolde said nothing, refusing to let any of the Blades know of her feelings for Martin. "Fine," he grumbled. "Come on, we're leaving." "But I don't want to leave," Isolde protested. Baurus just took her arm and put it around his neck, lifting her her onto her feet. "I can walk, you know," she snapped as she pulled her arm away. Fortis chuckled from beside her. They walked, and stumbled in Isolde's case, to the south gate and untied their horses once they were outside Bruma. "Can you ride in this condition?" Fortis asked her. "Of course." But when she tried to put her foot in the stirrup, Isolde fell flat on her back. Baurus shook his head at the laughing Fortis. "Take her horse, will you?" He ordered the Imperial. Baurus got onto his horse and then pulled Isolde up after him. Beginning the short ride back to Cloud Ruler, Isolde had rested her head on Baurus' shoulder. But when they were half way up the road, she snapped her head up and said, "We have to stop."

"Why?" The Blade asked her.

Her response was to throw up on his arm. Baurus stopped the horse immediately. Getting down, Isolde ran to a bush to continue her heaving, while Baurus could only remain in the saddle, too shocked to say anything. Fortis, on the other hand, was doubled over with laughter. He was holding his stomach and tears were pouring out of his eyes.

"Shut up!" Baurus snapped.

Isolde walked back to them, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. "I'm sorry, Baurus," she said, her voice quiet. He had to take a deep breath before speaking. "It's alright, Rozenn. Perhaps you should ride your own horse the rest of the way, though." Nodding, she crawled into her own saddle and took the reins from Fortis, who was still laughing quietly. When they arrived back at the temple, Baurus got off and left his horse for Isolde to take care of.

He went inside to change his shirt.

Fortis took Baurus' horse from her and told her to go to bed. Thanking him, and already feeling less drunk, Isolde went straight to her bedroll. When she woke up the next morning, she felt awful. Her head was pounding and her mouth was dry, as if it was packed with cotton. Looking around, she saw that she was the last one up. 'They must all be eating breakfast,' she thought. Standing up and steadying herself against the spinning room, Isolde peeked out the door that led outside. No one was on guard duty yet, so she sprinted to the east wing door and went into the training room's small bathing room. Walking over to the large wooden tub, she lit a fire and soon the water was warm enough for her to climb in and bathe. When the water began to cool, Isolde got out and was happy to find that the world was no longer spinning, and she felt better. She dried off and put on the clothes she had been wearing the night before. They smelled of ale, but she didn't care. Isolde then decided to face the other Blades by going up and getting breakfast. Her growling stomach was demanding food. She walked up the steps and entered the Great Hall. She saw the the Blades were all indeed eating breakfast. To her distress, so were Martin and Jauffre.

Willing herself not to look at him, Isolde turned her back and walked over to the table of Blades. The table fell into silence as Isolde approached, but once she stood before them, boistrous laughter echoed throughout the Great Hall. Feeling herself go red in the face, Isolde frowned.

"It isn't _that _funny!" That only made the table laugh more. The only ones not laughing were Baurus and Caroline. 'Not a suprise,' Isolde thought.

"Yeah, laugh why don't you," Baurus scowled at his fellow Blades. "My shirt still stinks."

At this, Isolde couldn't help but laugh as Pelagius made room for her at the table. At the far end of the Hall, Martin and Jauffre sat alone. Martin felt a pang of jealousy as he watched Isolde take a seat with the Blades. She had always ate with him when she was at the Temple. He frowned; he had always thought himself above petty emotions like jealousy, but he was proving himself wrong. He watched as Pelagius threw his arm around Isolde's shoulders and said something inaudible. Martin felt his eyes narrow. He sighed as he watched Isolde with the other Blades, longing to be the one with his arm over her shoulders. But knowing that it could not be, he did nothing except sit, eat, and watch her from across the room.

When she had finished her breakfast, Isolde walked outside, breathing in the cool mountain air. She went to the unoccupied watchtower and stared down at Bruma. Isolde thought back to the kiss she and Martin had shared. He had told her then that he hadn't wanted to ruin their friendship. Shaking her head, Isolde forced herself to act like the adult she was and think rationally. She still had a job to do, and avoiding Martin wasn't going to do anything but hinder her. She knew that she had to speak with him sooner or later. And it seemed sooner was the way the gods wanted it.

She heard someone approaching from behind and Isolde turned her head to see Martin walking her way. 'Damn,' she thought. 'Why couldn't it have been later?' Steeling herself, Isolde turned to him.

"What is it, Martin?" Martin, a bit surprised at the chilly greeting, felt his excited smile falter just a little. "I must speak with you, Isolde."

"Have you translated the second item needed for the ritual?" Martin blinked. "Why yes, how did you guess?" Isolde didn't answer, instead asking, "What is it?" He cleared his throat. "The second item is the counterpart to the first: the blood of a Divine. This was a terrible puzzle to me. Unlike the Daedra Lords, the gods have no artifacts, and do not physically manifest themselves in our world."

Isolde rolled her eyes in irritation. "How am I suppose to obtain the blood of a god?"

"Jauffre solved it. The blood of Tiber Septim himself, who became one of the Divines. This is a secret remembered only by the Blades, passed down from one Grandmaster to the next. Jauffre should tell it to you himself. In the meantime, I will continue my study of the Mysterium Xarxes. Perhaps...perhaps you would care to join me?" His face looked hopeful, but Isolde frowned.

"No, I'm going to go find Jauffre. Besides, I wouldn't want to _interfere_ with your work."

Without waiting for him to respond, Isolde walked around him and left him standing outside. She found the Grandmaster is his room. She knocked on the sliding door and he told her to come in. "I just spoke with Martin and he told me about the second item. Where can I find it?" Jauffre looked at her and sighed. "So Martin wants you to recover the armor of Tiber Septim? I wish there was another way."

"Why? Is it that dangerous?"

Jauffre nodded. "The armor is in the Shrine of Tiber Septim, in the catacombs beneath the ruins of Sancre Tor. A holy place, once. But Sancre Tor became evil long ago. No one has returned from the Shrine of Tiber Septim for many lifetimes."

"Evil? What evil lurks in Sancre Tor?"

"I do not know. The catacombs of Sancre Tor were sealed by the first Grandmaster of the Blades. The four mightiest Blades of Tiber Septim's day, Alain, Valdemar, Rielus, and Casnar, went to Sancre Tor and never returned. Here, this is the key to Sancre Tor's outer door. I fear I am sending you to your death, but we have no other choice. You must succeed."

"My death?" Isolde squeeked. Jauffre nodded regretfully. "As I said, no one has ever come back from Sancre Tor. But you must, Isolde. You are the key to Martin's success with the Mysterium Xarxes." Isolde raised an eyebrow as he handed her a map. "Here, I have mapped Sancre Tor on this. I suggest that you leave as soon as you can." Isolde nodded and left the Grandmaster's room. Trying to quell her fear, she went to the barracks and packed a few things, and then walked out to the stables. Looking at her map, she memorized the location and put it in her pack and as she was about to swing herself up into the saddle, she heard Martin call out her name. She felt an odd sense of guilt over the fact that she was about to leave without saying goodbye to Martin, and so she stood and waited as he walked over to her.

"Were you just about to leave?" Isolde nodded, and she could see the hurt flash through his eyes. "Please be careful, Isolde. I have heard the stories about Sancre Tor, and..." He reached out and touched her shoulder, and Isolde turned her back to him so that he couldn't see the losing battle she was having with her sudden tears.

"Isolde, I know how you must be feeling."

"Do you?" She whispered.

"I do. You must be terrified to have to go to Sancre Tor." Isolde let out a hoarse laugh. "Of course I am, Martin. But that isn't the only reason I seem upset." From behind her, Martin cocked his head. "It isn't? Then what is the matter?"

Isolde shook her head. "Martin, you are such a fool."

The one time priest was beyond confused. "In Talos' name, what are you talking about?"

Isolde turned back around and threw herself in Martin's arms, kissing him hard on the lips.

Releasing a stunned Martin, Isolde got into the saddle and rode the horse out of the stable and away from the Temple, leaving him frozen with shock.


	4. Chapter 3

Captain Steffan was on lookout duty the next night when he spotted her horse walking up the path.

"Go find Jauffre," he told Cyrus in the other watchtower. "Tell him Rozenn is back."

Cyrus ran to the building as Steffan watched Isolde's slow approach. He wondered why she was only walking the horse, and as she got closer, he could see Isolde slumped forward in the saddle.

"Damn," he swore, running from the watch tower to the main steps. He ran down the steps just as the horse had entered the gate. Isolde had a grip on the horn of the saddle and one hand was clutching her left side. Steffan grabbed on to the fallen reins and shook her leg. "Rozenn?" He said. "Rozenn!" She mumbled something as she opened her eyes and looked at the Captain.

"I have the armor," she said weakly. He saw that the hand at her side was covered in blood.

"Damn," he swore again. "Rozenn," he said. "This is going to hurt."

He ran up the stairs with the horse in tow and he heard Isolde cry out in pain. They reached the top of the steps just as Jauffre was coming out through the main door. "She's wounded," he told one of the men guarding the door. "Get Jena. Tell her to meet us in the barracks." The man scampered off to find the healer and Jauffre came to stand beside the horse, taking it's reins. Steffan hauled Isolde off of the horse, trying to be as gentle as possible as she clutched at her side, tears now falling from her eyes. He heard a door slam shut and Steffan saw Martin standing in front of them.

"What has happened to her?" He cried. Steffan did not reply, he instead lifted Isolde into his arms and carried her down into the barracks with Martin and Jauffre following. The Captain placed her gently down on her bedroll just as Jena ran through the door. "Take off that armor," the healer ordered as she gave Isolde a healing potion. Steffan unlaced the cuirass and took it off. Underneath the cuirass there was a large blood stain on Isolde's white tunic.

"I got the armor," Isolde said again. Her eyes found Martin and she gave him a weak smile. He knelt beside her and wiped the persperation from her brow with his sleeve. "Good job," he whispered. Martin took her hand in his own, allowing her to squeeze it as Jena pushed up the tunic and cleaned the blood from her skin.

"Arrow head," Jena said to herself. "Below the ribs."

"Ahh!" She cried out as Jena poked around the wound. "Couldn't have hit the lungs," Martin heard her say quietly to Steffan. "But it's deep."

"There...were skeletons in Sancre T...Tor," Isolde told Martin. Her voice sounded weak to his ears and her teeth were chattering. "They were the B...Blades who..." She broke off her sentence and panted. "I didn't see the...other sk...skeletons outside when I went it. They were there...as I left. One had a bow." She let out a sob as Jena dug into the wound with her long fingers. "I tried...I tried to pull it out b...but it broke off at the tip, inside me. Why...did you s...send me alone?"

Martin was instantly flooded with guilt, and he placed his other hand on her head and he stroked her hair. There was more sweat on her face and her hand was moist. She weakly squeezed Martin's hand again as Jena told Jauffre to hand her a pair of forceps from her kit. "This is going to cut her up a little more when I pull it out," Jena said to Steffan. "Be ready with that cloth."

Jena looked at Isolde. Her eyes were now unfocused and her breathing was quick and shallow. This had to be done quickly.

"Ready? One. Two. Three!" Isolde screamed as Jena quickly pulled out the arrowhead. Blood poured from the wound and Steffan put the cloth to it and applied pressure. "We have to wait until the bleeding stops before I can stitch it up," Jena told them.

"Will she be alright?" Jauffre asked.

Jena nodded. "She should be. Give her another healing potion when she wakes up and she should be back on her feet in a day. Two at the most." Martin looked at the Breton. She had passed out when Jena had pulled the arrowhead from her and he was a little grateful for it. The less pain she had to feel, the better Martin felt.

"Jena," Steffan said. "The bleeding isn't stopping." The healer growled in frustration. "Alright, we have to give her another one right away. Wake her up," she ordered Martin, not caring that she had just given an order to the Emperor. Martin moved his hand down to her cheek and he shook her gently. "Isolde? Wake up. Wake up." Impatient, Jena moved up and slapped Isolde across the face, much to the horror of Martin. Isolde opened her eyes weakly and mumbled something unintelligable. Jena took out a vial of potion and held it to the Breton's lips. Isolde, being too tired to fight, allowed the sickly sweet tasting liquid to be swallowed. In mere minutes, Steffan told them all that the bleeding had stopped, and Jena took out a sharp needle and thread and began to stitch up the wound. From the bedroll came a hiss of pain and Martin felt his hand being squeezed by Isolde. Her teeth were clenched and her eyes were staring up at the ceiling; the potion had allowed her to regain her consiousness. He leaned over her so that she could see his face.

"Isolde, I am sorry."

Her only response was to close her eyes and wimper as Jena continued to stitch. Isolde's hand clamped tighter around his and it felt as if she might break his fingers, but Martin allowed it. If he could be of any comfort to her, then it was the least he could do for causing her injury. He watched her face as the healer worked on her. It was contorted with pain and tears slipped from her closed eyes onto her pillow. Martin placed his other hand back on her head and hoped that the petting motion would be soothing.

"Finished," Jena announced. She cleaned the newly closed wound as best she could, and then covered it with a bandage. Jena wiped her bloodied hands on a cloth and packed up her medical supplies.

"She should rest," she told the trio of men. Jauffre nodded and after shooting the Breton a worried look, left the room. Steffan patted her hand and followed Jauffre and Jena out the door. Only Martin remained. He sat holding her right hand as Isolde's eyes fluttered closed. He waited until he saw the steady rhythm of her of her breathing and he knew that she was asleep. Martin leaned over and kissed her gently on the cheek. Sitting back, he stroked her hand with his fingers. He couldn't believe that he had almost lost her. His heart was still pounding in his chest and he felt ill.

"Mara forgive me," he whispered. "Jauffre was right." Martin made a decision and promised the goddess of love that he would tell her how he felt the next time he saw her. He stayed where he was for the better part of the night, until Jauffre came back down and forced the Emperor away, back into his quarters for sleep. But sleep would not come to him. Instead he sat on a bench and stared out the window, watching as the last of the stars faded away and the sun came into the sky.

When she woke up, she was alone in the barracks. She was wearing the tunic from the night before, and when she lifted it up she saw a bandage covering her wound. Expecting to feel pain when she touched it, Isolde was pleasantly surprised when she touched it and found that it only itched a little. Peeling off the bandage, she saw that her skin had been sewn shut. Jena, she remembered, had taken care of stitching up her skin, while the potion had healed her internally. Gently stretching, Isolde rose from her bedroll. When she moved, the wound was tender, but not painful. She had to refrain from scratching it. Moving to her small trunk, Isolde looked down at herself. Her tunic had a large blood stain on it, and a hole from the arrow as well. She made the easy decision to change, and found a form fitting green tunic that the Blades had provided for her. Putting it on with ease, Isolde left the barracks and walked into the Great Hall. There she was greeted by Jauffre, who gave her a smile when he spotted her.

"Isolde, how wonderful to see you. How are you feeling?"

"I feel alright, thank you. Jena is an excellent healer, I hardly feel anything at all." Jauffre was quite relieved to hear it. He had feared for her life last night and was pleased to see that she had rocovered. "And congratulations on retrieving the armor. Well done!" Isolde was happy that Jauffre was pleased. "It was not as difficult as you made it seem, Jauffre. There were many ghosts, and the four cursed Blades of course. But it was fairly easy. Except for when I left. Blasted skeletons." Isolde touched her wound gently.

"Yes, about that. Isolde, I need you to have a word with Martin. He is wracked with guilt about your injury, and I fear that it will hinder his progress with the Mysterium Xarxes." Isolde's eyes went wide. "He thinks he is to blame?" Shaking her head, Isolde turned away from the Grandmaster. "I will go and talk to him. Where is he?"

"In his quarters," Jauffre answered. Isolde nodded and walked back to the west wing doors. She walked up the stairs and knocked on the door. From inside, Martin told her to go away, but she opened the door and walked in. Martin turned and saw Isolde in his room and he frowned.

"By Talos, what are you doing up?" He stood up from his desk. "You should be resting," he told her. Isolde just waved his words away with her hand. "Don't be silly, I feel fine." But Martin took her by the hands and brought her over to his bed, forcing her to sit down. "You shouldn't be here," he said quietly after a moment. He had sat back down in his chair and was now avoiding her eyes. "Are you angry with me? Do you want me to go?"

Martin scoffed. "Of course not."

"Then why won't you look at me?" Martin sighed but didn't say anything. "It isn't your fault, you know," she told him. At this, he did look at her, right in the eye.

"Yes it is," he snapped. "I was the one that sent you to Sancre Tor. And alone."

Isolde couldn't argue the last point. Sending her alone when there were thirteen other Blades at Cloud Ruler still seemed foolish to her, but what was done, was done. "I don't blame you, Martin. Surely you know that."

"Why not?" He asked. "I would."

Isolde tsk-ed. "Silly Martin," she whispered. Kneeling down in front of his knees, she took his hands in hers and looked into his eyes. "Know this, Martin. I do not blame you, and you should not blame yourself." Isolde didn't know what else she could have said to get her point across.

Martin gave her a half smile, grateful that she did not blame him as he blamed himself. "Thank you," he said softly. There was a moment of silence. "I was so worried about you," Martin told her. "I don't know what I would have done...I cannot do this without you, Isolde." Isolde felt herself smile and she remembered why she felt the way she did about him.

"You stayed with me as I slept, didn't you?"

Martin nodded.

"I remember waking up at one point and seeing you sitting at my side." "I didn't feel like I could leave you. Jauffre had to threaten me with bodily harm to get me to leave." Isolde chuckled at the thought.

"Isolde, I must tell you something," he said suddenly. "About you. And...and I. Please don't say anything until I am finished." Isolde felt her heart sink into her stomach. She didn't really want to hear the many reasons why he didn't want her.

"It's alright, Martin, I already know what you are going to say. I heard you and Jauffre talking."

"You did?"

She nodded and lowered her eyes. "About how you don't want to be with me for fear of not being able to concentrate on getting the Amulet." With her eyes to the ground, she did not see Martin smile.

"I asked you not to interrupt," he chided softly. "As I was going to say, during the time you were gone closing Oblivion Gates, I felt my feelings for you change. What started out as friendship has turned into something more. Something deeper. I was confused about how I was feeling, and then we kissed and I felt something that I haven't felt in a very long time. I thought it would be better if I ignored the feelings, but I was wrong. I need you now in a way I have never needed anyone before. As Jauffre told me, in these uncertain times we must hold on to happiness, and savor it while we have the chance. You make me happy, Isolde. You make me forget about the crisis and I see now that that is a good thing. When I thought I might lose you, I felt such despair. I don't know what I would do without you."

She felt her stomach constrict, and Isolde could find no words.

"Isolde," he said. "I cannot...I cannot promise you anything now. You understand why. But I want you to be with me."

Isolde smiled, although Martin saw that there was sadness in her eyes. "I don't want any promises from you, Martin. Not when they might not come to pass. But I want this."

He drew her up onto her feet and smiled broadly. He embaced her then and kissed her deeply. Breaking apart, Martin held her in his arms, happy at how she seemed to fit just right. There were no words said; there didn't need to be. They didn't know how long they stood there, it felt like hours and seconds at the same time. Isolde pulled away first and grinned at him.

"Have you even looked at the armor?"

Martin chuckled. "Only for a moment. Would you like to?"

Isolde nodded and followed him out of the room. They passed Baurus as they walked into the Great Hall and both of them missed the smirk on his face.

'It's about time,' the Redguard through to himself.

Martin led Isolde over to the armor and they both stared at it. It was incredibly old, and yet looking at it, it was as if it had been forged only days before. Martin felt a shiver of excitment as he gazed at the armor. To have something that had belonged to his ancestor, it made him suddenly feel close to the father he had never known, and proud to have the family name that he now could call his own.

"The Septim blood may flow through my veins," he said to Isolde. "But you have the soul of a hero. The Armor of Tiber Septim himself! Jauffre was amazed to see it. You can reassure Jauffre that I will not destroy the armor. All I need is a scraping of Talos' divine blood." He chuckled, something that Isolde liked hearing him do. "The Blades are as touchy as priests about relics of Tiber Septim, it seems!"

"Can you blame them? The armor is so old. I'm sure that it is brittle, as well."

Almost shyly, she reached out and grazed his hand gently with her fingers. "What else can I do to help?" She asked.

"You have already done so much already," he told her, taking ahold of her hand. But the look on her face was serious.

"Alright. While you were gone, I made some progress in deciphering the Mysterium Xarxes ritual. The third item we need is a Great Welkynd Stone." Isolde gasped and she smiled.

"I already have one!"

But Martin shook his head. "You may have run across a lesser Welkynd Stone; they are fairly common in Ayleid ruins. But a Great Welkynd Stone will not be easy to come by."

"Oh," Isolde voiced her disappointment.

"They have been plundered one by one over the years, due to their great value to mages and occultists."

"Where can I find one, then?" Martin hesitated; after everything that had just happened, the last thing he wanted to do was send Isolde on another mission so soon. "I...I do not know yet. I haven't gotten that far in the translation."

Isolde nodded. "I see. Well, we will just have to get on it, then." She laughed. "I cannot help, of course, but I provide superb moral support." Martin smiled. "I have a better idea. Meet me at one of the watchtowers in fifteen minutes." Isolde had to stifle an excited giggle. "Alright."

He left her then, and Isolde waited for the approopriate time before leaving the Hall to grab her cloak, then walking outside to meet Martin. He was standing in the right watchtower with his back to her, looking out over Bruma. She came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned around, she saw that he had a tray on the stone ledge filled with sweetrolls and fruit.

"We cannot leave Cloud Ruler, but that should not stop us from having a small picnic," he told her. Isolde smiled. She never would have believed that the man who had once been a priest, a man with so much on his mind, would have thought up such thing.

"Oh Martin, how sweet." She picked up a sweetroll and took a bite, letting the taste of sugar and cinnamon fill her mouth. "I have to say," Isolde said once she had finished a bite. "This seems completely out of character for you. Coming up with all of this, and in mere minutes!"

"What can I say? Sometimes I can be rather charming." He handed her a pear and she bit into it, laughing as a drop of juice ran down her chin. Watching it run down her skin, Martin reached out and wiped it up with his thumb. Isolde smirked as he put the droplet into his mouth and smiled. Together they finished the food and Isolde made a sound of contenment as she filled her stomach. She shivered as a gust of wind hit her body, and she pulled her cloak tightly around her.

"Cold?"

She nodded. "Yes."

Martin held out a hand and conjured a fireball, holding it in his hands like an apple. "Martin, you never fail to surprise me," she told him, laughing as he brought it close so that she could warm her hands.

"Better?" He asked.

"Yes."

Martin let the fireball go out and he pulled her closer to him as they watched the sun sink below the mountains. They stood together in the dark before Isolde stepped away.

"We should probably go in," she said regretfully. "Jauffre will have my hide if I keep the Septim heir out late." She smirked as they walked back into the Temple. They walked through the door to the west wing and came to a stop just before the enterence to the barracks. "I suppose this is goodnight?" She questioned. Martin nodded and leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek. "Goodnight," he whispered. Isolde grinned and walked down into the barracks while he turned the corner and went to his room. He entered his quarters to find Jauffre standing at his desk holding the translation in his hand.

"A Great Welkynd Stone," Jauffre read aloud. "You know the third item needed for the ritual. You know the stone lies in Miscarcand. Why have you not yet told Isolde?"

Martin sighed as he closed the door. "You know why, Jauffre. How can I send her so soon after what just happened?"

"How could you not?" The Grandmaster retorted. "This is far too important, Martin. As happy as I am for the two of you, Isolde still has a job to do. All our lives depend on this ritual, hers included."

"You don't give a damn about her life!" Martin seethed.

"Of course I do! But she chose this path for herself," Jauffre pointed out. "She now knows the risks that come with being a Blade."

"Yes but why her? Why not one of the other Blades?"

Jauffre looked over his shoulder and came closer to Martin. "It is because of what she has done already," he told Martin. "The Gods seem to favour her and I think she will succeed where all of the other Blades would fail."

"But..." Martin trailed off, defeated. He sighed a deep sigh and sat down on his bed. "Alright Jauffre. I will speak with her tomorrow."

"Good."

Satisfied, Jauffre left and went into his own room and let Martin sleep. The next morning, Martin found her in the east wing talking with Jena. Jena saw Martin coming and excused herself and Isolde smiled at Martin as he sat down.

"Isolde, I have translated the location of the Great Welkynd Stone," he told her. She sat forward, feelings of dread and excitment coming forth. "And where is it?"

"There is only one place that is rumored to still contain one: the ruins of the Ayleid city of Miscarcand. A place where many adventurers have perished seeking its Great Stone. But nothing else will do. So you must succeed where all others have failed."

"Why is it that everyone before me has failed, and yet I must succeed?" There was a small smile on her face, and Martin could tell she was joking. "Tell me about Miscarcand," she implored.

"The capital of one of the ancient Ayleid kingdoms which flourished in Cyrodiil before the rise of Men. It is said that the ruins are still haunted by the vengeful spirit of its last king."

"Ghosts?" Isolde groaned. "Why more ghosts? I dealt with enough of them in Sancre Tor. They were relentless. And ugly." Martin let a chuckle escape him. "Well, true or not, it is not a place to be entered lightly. Be careful, Isolde." She thought back to her visit to Sancre Tor and smirked. "Aren't I always?" Martin gave a half smile but didn't say anything.

"So where is this Miscarcand?" She asked him. He brought her to his table in the Great Hall and pulled out his map of Cyrodiil. Tracing a finger over the landscape, he stopped when he found it.

"Here."

She looked at the map. Miscarcand was all the way near Skingard! Grumbling under her breath, she left his side to go gather her armor and weapons. when she went outside to fetch her horse, she found that Martin had him saddled already. He also had a small pack with him and he passed it to her. "Jena put it together for you. It has some magicka and healing potions." She looked up at him. "Do you think I'll need them?" Martin could only shrug. "I hope not. But there is always the chance."

Isolde nodded and he stepped forward to take her into his arms. He kissed her lips softly and then released her to mount her horse. "Be careful," he told her. Isolde licked her lips and smiled at the lingering taste of his kiss.

"I will," she promised. Waving goodbye, she put on her helmet as she rode down the steps and out of Cloud Ruler. It took her all morning, but she was able to find the ruins of Miscarcand just passed noon. She jumped down from the horse and was immediately assulted by two goblins. "Vermin!" She hissed. Isolde quickly got rid of them and made her way up the steps, and then down the spiral staircase to the stone door.

Entering the ruin, she lit a torch and started walking. Something drew her eyes to the ground, and when she bent down to see what it was, she realized that it was dried blood. All around her were puddles of blood and lifting her torch, Isolde spied discarded weapons. "The other adventurers," she whispered. Her heartbeat quickened in her chest. Gulping, Isolde made her way forward. She rounded a corner and came face to face with another goblin. He was a berserker, and attacked wildly with a mace, getting passed her blocks and hitting her on her armored midsection. Pushing him back with her shield, Isolde was able to catch her breath and stab at the goblin's unprotected chest.

Letting out a heavy breath, she continued on her way. Making her way through the ruins, Isolde came upon her first locked gate. After a search that lasted nearly twenty minutes, she found the switch that opened the gate. Jogging back to the iron door, she walked through and came to the door to the Sel Vanua. Entering the Sel Vanua, Isolde found more of the same, goblins and skeletons, and to her immense fear, zombies. But she easily dispatched them and quickly came upon the door to the Morimath. Walking through it, it took her another fifteen minutes to get to the platform that held the Great Welkynd Stone. When she came around the corner, Isolde stopped as she saw the eerie green glow.

"By the Nine," she whispered in awe.

Her footsteps were light as she tiptoed towards it. Reaching out a hand, she hesitated before snatching the stone from its resting place. Wasting no time, she shoved it into her pack and drew her sword once more as she heard the sound of grinding stone. She looked over the edge of the platform and watched as staircases rose from the ground and two zombies ran at her, all jagged nails and dead flesh. She supposed that they were here to guard the stone, but they made poor guardians she thought, as she cut them down.

Isolde was allowed no moment to catch her breath, for as the second zombie fell, the Lich King attacked. He came at her with his staff raised and instantly hit her with a shock spell. It hit her shield and Isolde felt the electric charge travel up her arm and nearly paralyze the left side of her body. He came close enough for Isolde to see his skeletal face and he tried to slash at her with his claw-like finger nails but she lept back at the very last second. Slashing at him with her sword, Isolde tried her best to focus enough energy on making a fireball. Throwing it at him, she was horrified to see that he just absorbed it and threw it back at her. Dodging out of the way, she threw her shield down on the ground seeing as it did her no good anyways, and it just weighed her down.

She put her now free hand on the hilt of her sword and braved an attack, slashing downwards with a two handed grip. It caught the Lich King from shoulder to hip and he screamed with inhuman rage. She took the time to run down the steps and quickly pulled a magicka restoration potion from her pack that Jena had given her. Gulping it down in three swallows, she threw the bottle to the ground as the Lich floated down the steps after her. She was ready for him, however, and she hacked wildly at his midsection as he got to the ground. She gave one last thrust with her sworn and it stabbed him right in his undead belly. He howled in anger and cast another shock spell that sent Isolde flying through the air, and she crashed into the wall, the sound of armor against stone echoing throughout the ruins. She looked up and watched the Lich King die, his body falling to the ground in a heap of bones.

When it was all over, she lay on the ground trying to catch her breath. Hitting the wall had knocked the wind out of her and after the last of the electric charges had ebbed out of her body, it took her a few moments before she could move again. Groaning, Isolde rolled onto her stomach and pushed herself up into a standing position, leaning against the wall for support. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she began her exit from Miscarcand. She saw a door and imagined that it lead to a shortcut, but she got tired of looking for a switch and she had no intention of searching the Lich King for a key, so she took the long way out of the ruin. As usual her horse was waiting patiently for her outside and she led it over to a fallen pillar so that she could climb up easier.

Wincing as she sat in the saddle, she gingerly flexed her back muscles as she started the horse out at a walk. It was about six hours from Miscarcand back to Cloud Ruler, but that was a a hard pace, and her back hurt her too much to ride hard. She reached into one of the saddle bags and brought out two health potions. She drank both of them and the pain in her lower back lessened, but didn't go away completely. In addition, her neck and shoulders still felt as tight as an overstrung bow string. Isolde grumbled her displeasure as her horse continued its slow pace. She knew there was no chance her aches would get better after six or more hours in a saddle. She contemplated spending the night in Skingrad, but decided against it. Getting back quickly was important. Her sore back wasn't.

As she rode away from Miscarcand, Isolde found that riding didn't hurt as much as she thought it would, so she clicked her tongue and the horse moved into a fast trot. Setting her mouth into a straight line, she readied herself for a long journey. When she arrived back at the temple it was already passed midnight. And although her body was tired, her mind was not so instead of sleeping, she quietly made her way up to the great hall after drinking another health potion. When she opened the door and entered the room, she spied Martin sitting at his usual table pouring over the Mysterium Xarxes. She walked over to him and he smiled wearily when he saw her.

"Isolde," he said. He closed the book as she sat down. "When did you return?"

"I've only just," she told him. "But I couldn't sleep."

Martin nodded. He, too, found that sleep was eluding him more and more these days. Isolde pulled her pack onto her lap. "I have something for you," she told him. She pulled the Welkynd Stone from the bag and passed it to him. Martin marveled at the Stone. "You got it," he whispered. "I said I would," Isolde drawled.

"You did," Martin agreed, looking back at her. "I can always count on you, it seems. I never thought I would see a Great Welkynd Stone. It is as beautiful as the old tales tell. But of course, it's beauty is a mask for it's deadly power, like everything crafted by the Ayleids. Now we need only one more item, and we'll be ready to open a portal to Mankar Camoran's realm. You must be hungry," he commented suddenly, after breaking off in mid-sentance.

Isolde nodded. "Yes, actually. I'm starving now that you mention it."

"Shall we go find something to eat? The Breton agreed and they both rose from the table and made their way down to the temple kitchens. When they got to the kitchens, Martin suddenly picked her up and whirled her around. Embracing her, he kissed Isolde on the forehead. "I've missed you," he said with a grin.

Isolde looked up into his blue eyes. "I missed you as well."

He kissed her then in a way that no priest would ever kiss, and then broke apart, both of them remembering their quest for food. He led her into the pantry and took a loaf of bread and a small block of cheese. "Shall we go to one of the watchtowers?" He asked her. Isolde nodded and followed him up into the Great Hall and out the doors toward the watchtowers. Walking into the small alcove, she handed Martin the loaf of bread, while she pulled out her small dagger and began to cut the block of cheese.

"Somehow I don't think the Blades would like to know that their weapons were being put to such a use," he teased her. Isolde scowled at him. "Unless you know a better way to cut through this, my dagger will have to do." Chuckling, he took a piece of cheese when she handed it to him. They both tried to make crude versions of cheese sandwiches, and when they had filled their stomachs Martin took her into his arms and she let his warmth envelop her.

"It's so very peaceful up here, isn't it?" She asked. "Up high on a mountain, away from everything. Right now I feel as if all of Cyrodiil's problems have simply vanished." From behind her, she heard Martin sigh regretfully and she could have kicked herself. Of course Martin could not agree with her. Cyrodiil's problems were his problems and as long as Dagon and his followers remained a threat, Martin would never allow them to stray far from his thoughts. Even for an evening. Isolde gently broke away and turned to face him, taking in the sight of his sad, tired face.

"When was the last time you had a good night's sleep, Martin?" He shook his head. "I can't remember, to tell the truth." Isolde gave him a worried glance.

"Martin," she sighed. "You really have to start taking better care of yourself." Beside her, Martin nodded solemnly. "Yes, I know. But there are more important things to worry about than my comfort." Isolde laughed softly. "Well, try and get some some sleep at least. There's no point in risking my life all the time if you're just going to drop dead of exhaustion." She grinned, but Martin fixed her with a hard stare.

"Isolde, do you...do you resent me for having to send you on all of these missions?" Isolde laughed again, trying to lighten his spirits. "No. I resent Jauffre. It's he that does all the ordering."

But Martin didn't smile. Instead he kept his eyes on hers, waiting for a serious answer.

"Of course not, Martin. These missions are vital in stopping the daedra. And if poeple don't do all they can to help you succeed, they might as well be helping Dagon. We all must do everything we can for you."

"For me," he echoed. "What is it about me that makes people so willing to lay down their lives? I'm just..." "You are the Emperor," Isolde inturrupted.

"And you would die for the sake of a title?"

The Breton shook her head. "No, I would die for the sake of Martin Septim." He voice was harsh and for a moment there was silence.

"Why?" Came the quiet whisper.

"Because the country needs you, Martin," she told him. "You bring hope to the people when they thought all their hope was lost. Because you are my friend and more. And because I am expendable, and you are not."

Martin turned to look at her, shocked and angered. "Don't say that," he snapped. "You are not expendable." Isolde shrugged. "Cyrodiil needs you more then it needs me."

"I need you," he told her vehemently. He grabbed onto both of her hands and stood in front of her. "I need you, Isolde."

Her stomach flipped over as she looked deep into his blue eyes, and she saw urgency there. Almost desparation. And then her lips were on his. Martin didn't pull away. Instead he weaved a hand through her hair and pulled her close with the other. Neither one broke the kiss until the need for air became an issue. When they broke apart, Martin kept her hands in his own, caressing the back of her hand with his thumb. Isolde, as if reading his mind, nodded her head slightly as she wordlessly agreed to his unspoken request. Without uttering a word he led her back inside and into his chambers. Locking the door, Martin blew out all the candles in his room save for the three on his desk. He turned back to her and saw that Isolde was standing in the middle of the room looking as skittish as a deer. He walked to her and rubbed her arms.

"Isolde, are you sure about this?" Isolde nodded. "I am, I'm just..." she bit her lower lip. "Nervous." He smiled. "Have you ever?" Isolde nodded, thinking back to Mogens Wind-Shifter, a Nord from years ago. "Yes. Once. I was far too young, and I thought he cared for me more than he did." She pushed the memory out of her head as Martin stroked her cheek. She reached out and untied his cloak, watching as it fell to the ground. He led her over to the bed and laid her down, covering her with his body and kissing her deeply. They broke apart, and with a gasp she felt Martin's strong hand go under her tunic and gently squeeze her breast. He grinned and silenced her suprise with a kiss. "I'm assuming it won't be the second time _you_ have done this," Isolde giggled when the kiss had ended.

Martin just laughed.

***************************************

Afterwards, he lay under her as she proped herself up on one elbow and ran a hand through his hair. "Where in the name of Talos did a priest learn such things?" She asked him with a grin.

"I wasn't always a priest."

Isolde smirked as she kissed him. "Then your unpriestly education must have been very informative."

"Such cheek," he growled, amused. Isolde laid her head down on his chest and she could hear his heart beating. The sound almost lulled her into sleep when Martin spoke.

"Isolde, I have finished the translation. I know the last item needed for the ritual."

Isolde lifted her head from his chest and looked into his eyes. Worry was written all over her face. "Please, let us not speak of it now. Let it wait until tomorrow. Let us just have tonight."

Martin smiled softly and obliged her, bringing his lips up to meet hers. He ran a hand down her long spine and she shivered on top of him. Flipping her over suddenly, Isolde felt goosebumps erupt on her body as he began to kiss her neck. His lips made their way up to her ear and she could feel his warm breath on her skin.

"Tonight it is."

His long fingers slid down to her stomach, and Isolde grinned as they continued their descent.

When she opened her eyes the next morning, the sun was shining brightly through Martin's window. Looking to her left, she saw Martin, already dressed in his blue robes, sitting on the side of the bed. He was watching her with the smallest of smiles. Isolde grinned as she closed her eyes, lifting her arms above her head and stretching.

"Good morning," she said softly. As she stretched, she could feel a delightful ache from between her legs. Martin leaned over her torso and kissed her gently on the lips. "Good morning, Isolde." He continued to stare down at her and Isolde felt herself blush. "What is it? She asked.

Martin smiled a gentle smile. "You look so beautiful right now."

Isolde's blush intensified and a wide grin broke out on her face. Before she could say anything, Martin rose from the bed and stood facing the window.

"The fourth item needed is a Great Sigil stone," he told her. He remained looking outside as Isolde got out of bed and hastily threw on her tunic and pants.

"What?" She gasped.

Martin turned to her and nodded slowly. "I am afraid so."

A chill ran down the Breton's spine. "And how are we suppose to get one?" She asked, fearing the answer.

"The only way we can: we have to let the Mythic Dawn carry out their plan of opening a Great Gate outside of Bruma," he began. "Whereupon I will enter the gate and get the stone," she finished. "Me. Alone."

Martin grimaced at her harsh tone.

"That is madness," Isolde hissed. "Have you switched your patronage from Sanguine to Sheogorath? This is the very thing we have worked so hard to provent!"

She saw his head droop slightly. "I am aware of that," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it is the only way to create a portal to Camoran."

"Does Jauffre know about this?"

Martin shook his head. "Not yet." Isolde pressed her lips together and turned on her heel, leaving Martin's quarters for the Grandmaster's. In a rush she told him of Martin's plans and they both watched as the colour drained from his face. "With all do respect Sire, there must be another way. The risk is too great."

Martin scowled down at Isolde when she shot him a smug look. He turned back to Jauffre. "I know the risk. I was at Kvatch. But there is no other way. We have no choice."

Jauffre let out a haggered breath as he considered Martin's words. "The Countess will never forgive me," he muttered to himself. "Very well. The Blades, as always, are at your disposal."

"What?!" Isolde yelled. "Has the entire Temple gone insane?"

"Isolde!" Jauffre snapped. "Martin has made his decision. The Blades stand beside him. All the Blades," He finished. His voice was low and has an edge to it. It warned her to stop protesting.

Isolde bit the inside of her mouth. "Alright. Fine. I suppose arguing won't do any good anyways. I just have to go along with this madness."

"Thank you," Martin whispered. He led her away from Jauffre and down to the Great Hall. "As if I have a choice," she shot back. "Of course you do," he told her. "I cannot force you to do anything. I understand that. And I thank you for staying with me." Isolde opened her mouth but no words came out. "Well..." She rolled her eyes. "Of course I have to stay. You're likely to get yourself killed." Martin had to hide his smile and force it away before he could speak again.

"I need a favour from you," he told her. "What is it?" He poured them both a mug of wine and they sat down at one of the tables. "I need you to go into Bruma and speak with the Countess for me." Isolde swallowed a sip of wine. "Why m....I shouldn't even bother asking 'why me', should I?" She sighed and pushed her annoyance away. She gulped the wine and stood up. "I might as well go now then."

After helping her strap on her armor, Martin followed her outside to her horse. "What shall I tell her?"

"Explain the battle plans and tell her that I will wait for her in the Chapel of Talos." Isolde nodded and mounted her horse. Smiling slightly, she leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. "I will see you soon."

Clicking her tongue, she left to Temple and made her way to Castle Bruma. She strode determinatley up to the castle and came upon Countess Narina Carvain sitting on her throne with her steward, Yvara Channitte, standing behind her. The Countess looked up as Isolde approached her. "Greetings, Hero of Kvatch. What news from Cloud Ruler Temple?"

Isolde licked her lips and in an angry rush she told Countess Carvain Martin's battle plans. She watched as the blood drained from Imperial noble's face. She pushed her lips together and considered her words before speaking again. "A desperate plan indeed. This...Prince? Emperor? Martin would risk my whole city to gain a Great Sigil Stone?"

Isolde nodded slowly. "Unfortunately, yes. It's the only way to recover the stone needed for the ritual to recover the Amulet of Kings. And we must recover the Amulet."

The Countess gave her an icy glare. "This is the only way to stop the invasion from Oblivion? I must confess, you are the first person to speak of victory against these daedra. This war has seemed hopeless to me, but what else was there to do but hold on and wait for a hero to arise and save us? And now it seems there is an heir to the throne after all, hidden at Cloud Ruler Temple. And perhaps a hero as well?" Narina raised an eyebrow at Isolde, and her faced flushed.

"Martin awaits at the chapel," was the only response she gave the Countess. "You avoid answering my question. Very well. Don't think I doubt you. The rulers of Bruma have long had dealings with Cloud Ruler Temple. We know whom they serve. I will meet Martin in the chapel. When all is ready, I will order my men to stop closing the gates and prepare for battle." Isolde nodded and dropped into a curtsy. "Thank-you, my Lady." Narina rose from the throne and gave Isolde a nod as she walked passed with Yvara. Isolde took a moment alone before turning and exiting the castle and making her way to the Chapel of Talos. She opened the doors and walked inside, joining the small group at the alter. She chose not to interrupt Martin and the Countess, choosing instead to stand beside Baurus.

"Rozenn," he greeted tersely. She nodded towards the pair of arguing nobles. "What's happened so far?" He shrugged. "You can imagine. Martin knows she will allow him to do what must be done. Countess Carvain just hates giving up control. Especially when it concerns the welfare of Bruma. I've known the woman for years. She makes a good Countess, but she has the very ice of Bruma flowing in her veins." Isolde smirked and turned to the two Imperials just as the Countess threw up her hands and nodded her head. "Very well. I will give the command momentarily," she all but spat. Then she turned on her heel and walked out of the chapel. Isolde heard Martin sigh and watched him turn to Jauffre.

"I look forward to fighting by your side again," Baurus told her with a grim smile. Isolde thought back to their time in the sewers and gave a small smile of her own. "As do I."

The Blades made last minute ajustments to their armor and Martin came to stand beside Isolde. Isolde had to admire how he looked his Imperial Dragon armor. For someone who wore priests robes for as long as he did, armor looked completly natural on him.

"Are you nervous?" She asked as she tightened the leather straps on her cuirass. "No, Martin told her, his voice strong and confident. "My place is on the battlefield. The time for hiding at Cloud Ruler Temple is over. Come," he held out his hand to her. "Let us go down to battle together."

Isolde hesitated for a moment.

By walking through Bruma hand in hand, it would be like announcing their relationship, whatever it was, to the public. No doubt the news would spread like wildfire. But after the moment had passed, Isolde grinned and took his hand and held it tightly. She wouldn't think about the townspeoples' opinion, she decided, or even those of her fellow Blades. Today she cared only for Martin's thoughts. And if Martin wanted her to walk with him, then walk with him she would.

Making their way out of the chapel, the warriors were greeted by cheers from the people of Bruma. "Hail, Martin Septim," they cried. They waved their arms at him and Martin responded by waving at them with his free hand. "They love you already," Isolde commented. Martin appeared to ponder her words, but said nothing. She knew he still wasn't used to the adoration of the people. As the group walked passed a crowd of women, Isolde heard them whispering. "Who's she?" One of them asked. Her friends shrugged. "I don't know. But look, he has her by the hand!" The women began to chatter amongst themselves and Isolde shook her head. She turned to look at Martin only to find he was already watching her. He gave her a crooked smile and squeezed her hand as they came to the East gate.

Walking through it, all the soldiers allowed themselves to take a few deep breaths before marching down to where the Great Gate was to open. Burd and his men walked passed her and each of them gave her a nod of the head that she returned. They had fought together once already, and with the Gods' blessing, they might again come out of it alive. The soldiers lined up and listened as Martin paced back and forth, making a speech that send shivers down Isolde's spin. Hearing his words, she truly believed he felt ready to assume the throne.

Now they just had to save it.

With a gasp, Isolde saw the first of the lesser gates open up, and the soldiers ran to kill the creatures pouring out.

"Remember," Martin cried out, "We have to wait for two more gates." She chose to stick close to him. Within minutes the second gate appeared, and then the third, and soon enough, the Great Gate sprouted up from the earth. Isolde's time was now.

She turned to Martin and he pulled her in for a quick, hard kiss. "Please be careful."

Like he had to tell her.

"And good luck. May the Gods protect you."

"And you," she told him.

Gripping tight on the hilt of her sword, Isolde made a mad dash for the Great Gate, dodging everything in her way. Entering the gate, Isolde was instantly stilled by the sight of the seige machine.

"That is what destroyed Kvatch," she said aloud. Determination flooded through her. She wouldn't let it destroy another city. She couldn't. Setting off into a run, she easily came upon caverns and began making her way through them.

Outside of the gate, the soldiers did their best to fight off the enemy while they waited for Isolde, or the seige machine, to come out of the gate. Martin was currently being aided by Baurus in an attack against a dremora churl when he heard cries from behind him. Turning around, fear gripped his heart as he saw the seige machine slowly make its way out of Oblivion and into Cyrodiil. His hands trembled and he nearly dropped his sword. Isolde, he reckoned, had been killed and Bruma was to end up like Kvatch. Dispair flooded through him as the thoughts entered his mind, but he squared his shoulders and was determined to die with dignity, when he saw the seige machine slow to a stop and he heard Baurus' voice from beside him.

"There she is!"

Momentarily forgetting Martin, the Redguard ran down the slope to greet Isolde. She was leaning against the prone seige machine for support as she struggled to catch her breath. She had lost her helmet and her hair was thick with blood from a head wound, but she was alive. And she had succeded in closing the Great Gate.

Baurus took her by the shoulders and crushed her body into his in an impulsive embrace. "By the Gods, Rozenn, you did it! You stopped the evil war machine!" Isolde smiled weakly as he put an arm around her to steady her and led her through the crowd of cheering soldiers. He led her to Martin and then released her from his grip. The two stood only a foot apart and Martin reached out gingerly with two fingers and touched the wound on her head. She hissed in pain and Martin grinned, an odd thing to do she thought.

"You should get back to Cloud Ruler and have Jena look at that for you." Isolde nodded and made the move to step forward, but Martin held her in place. He brought a hand up to caress her cheek and drew her face close to his own. "You did it, Isolde," he whispered in her ear. "You have saved all of Bruma." Then he brought his lips down gently onto hers and both of them ignored the few whistles that came from soldiers from various cities. When they broke apart, Baurus was at her side waiting to take her back to the Temple.

"He wanted to stay to help with the dead," he explained to her as they walked up the snowy path. Isolde didn't say anything; she expected no less from Martin. "So should we add 'Savior of Bruma' to your list of titles?" He asked with a grin. Isolde, hoping his chit chat would distract her from the pain in her head, nodded. "Yes," she agreed. "I'm only going to answer to that from now on. Don't even bother with my old name, Baurus, for I simply won't respond."

Baurus laughed.

"And I want a medal."

"Shut up, Rozenn."

The walk back to the temple was quick and Isolde went to find Jena. After giving the girl a sleeping draught, Jena stitched up the headwound and left the girl to rest. Soon enough the rest of the Blades returned with Martin, who removed his armor before going to find Isolde. He found her sleeping in the barracks and asked that she be brought to his chambers. Baurus gently scooped up the girl and carried her to Martin's room. Placing her on the bed, he caught Martin's eye. "She's going to be fine, Majesty." The Imperial gave him a small smile as Baurus closed the door behind him, and then gingerly crawled onto the bed beside Isolde. He put his arm around her stomach and gently pulled her into his embrace. As she lay sleeping in his arms, Maritn could feel the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest and he felt himself grow drowsy. It had been a long, hard day and night, and Martin allowed his eyes to close and he quickly fell asleep.


	5. Chapter 4

When he awoke, he saw that the sun was beginning to rise. He was now laying on his back, and during the night Isolde had turned around and was currently curled up against him with her slender hand on his chest. Rolling back onto his side so that he lay facing her, Martin reached out a hand and stroked her cheek. He hated to wake her, but a new day was upon them and the sooner they could open the portal, the better.

"Isolde," he whispered. She mumbled something and opened her eyes.

"I'm already awake."

He leaned over and kissed her forehead and Isolde smiled. Martin had intended for them to get up immediately, but both of them continued to lay on the bed in each others arms.

"So today is the day," she whispered. "Today you get the Amulet of Kings back. Gods be willing."

Martin drew her closer to him so her back was against his chest and he inhaled the scent of her hair. "I'm afraid," she told him suddenly. "What if I fail? What if Camoran bests me?" Martin shook his head. "You cannot think like that. I have complete faith in you, Isolde, as do the rest of the Blades. I know you will succede."

Isolde bit her lip. "Have you heard?" She asked, hoping to chance the subject briefly. "There is an island off the coast of Bravil, and they say that on the island is a door to another land."

Martin chuckled.

"Another land? And what does this other land look like?"

"Nobody knows. They say everyone who has come out of the door has come out completely insane, and whoever speaks to them cannot make heads or tails out of what they're talking about."

He ran a hand down her side. "Forgive me for saying so, but I for one would rather be here, in Cyrodiil."

"Really?" She asked. "Because sometimes I am so close to just running away."

He lifted his head. "Oh? And why do you stay?"

Isolde rolled around so that she was facing him and smiled, before leaning up and kissing him.

"We have to get up," she told him minutes later. "It must happen soon."

Martin nodded and allowed Isolde to leave both his arms and his bed. He followed her down to the barracks and helped her strap on her armor. "Ready?"

They stood at the door to the Great Hall.

"Yes," she whispered.

But how could she ever truly be ready for something like this?

They walked into the Hall and were surounded by all of the Blades.

Almost all of them.

Isolde looked around and then up at Martin. "Where are Ferrum and Caroline?" He pushed his lips into a straight line and she knew. Ferrum and Caroline had fallen.

"Oh."

She had liked Ferrum and would miss him, and while she didn't like Caroline, she would mourn her honourable death.

"I have everything in place for the ritual," Martin told her. "I will open the portal whenever you are ready. There is something you should know, however. Once you step through the portal, it will close behind you. You'll have to find another way back."

Isolde shivered but she nodded. "Mankar Camoren acts as the anchor for Paradise, just as the sigil stones were anchors for the gates. Kill Mankar Camoran and you will unmake his Paradise." Isolde held her breath for a moment before letting it out in one large exhale.

"Alright, I'm ready. Open the portal."

Martin moved to the other side of the circle and muttered an incantation in a language that Isolde could not understand. With a flash, the four ingredients disappeared and the portal erupted from the floor.

Isolde gasped and took a step back. She could feel the heat of it on her face, just as she could from the Oblivion gates. Bracing herself, she approched it and drew her sword. She took one last look at the Blades around her and at Martin and then she stepped through the portal, disappearing into the bright light of Paradise.

They stood at attention for half a day before she re-entered Cyrodiil; she was clutching the Amulet of Kings to her chest and taking great gasping breaths for air. Her legs buckled underneath her and she would have fallen to the floor had Martin not caught her. The cheering of the Blades echoed throughout the Temple as he took Isolde into his arms.

"You did it, Isolde!" Martin exclaimed. "You did it!"

But she did not seem to hear him. Indeed, she did not seem to even see him; she stared through him as if he were glass. "Gaiar Alata. The Garden. It was so beautiful there," she whispered, as if in a daze. "I could have stayed there forever."

Martin looked down at her, a concerned frown marring his features. "Isolde?" He questioned. Her eyes had a cloudy look to them and her lids were half closed. He reached up and took her chin in his hands and forced her to look at him, and she shook her head. Her green eyes cleared and became wide with shock. Guilt was written all over her face and her gaze fell to the ground. "I'm sorry," she whispered despairingly.

"Whatever for?"

"I...I wanted to stay," she whispered, her voice breaking. Martin took the Amulet from her hands and passed it off to Jauffre before picking Isolde up and helping her to his quarters. While she was in Paradise, a thick fog had settled in her mind, trying to make her forget her duty, but on the quick walk from the Great Hall, Isolde had composed herself and with the fog gone, she stood before Martin clear minded and alert.

As she seemed so weak from her time in Paradise, he sat her gingerly on the bed and kneeled in front of her. "What nonsense are you speaking?" He asked.

She licked her lips. "Paradise," she told him. "I...I couldn't believe it when I saw it. It was as different in there from Oblivion as night is to day. There was a garden there. It was...beautiful. It was realm of light." She gave a perplexed little laugh. "There were deer, and butterflies even. I must have stood at the portal gate for hours before I started down the path. And even when I began, I wanted to run back and just remain where I had started. Even when I was able to regain enough of my wits to continue on into the Forbidden grotto, I could still feel the pull of the Savage Garden. Even when I pressed on to Camoran's palace...even when I was about to kill him, all I wanted to do was go back the way I came and go back to that damn garden. Even though a part of me knew I would be abandoning you. I...I didn't care."

But Martin didn't scold her, or get angry like she thought he should. Instead she received a quiet sigh and a soothing hand on her back. 'By the Nine,' she thought. 'The man has unending patience.'

"It is called Paradise for a reason, you know."

But Isolde shook her head. "It was no Paradise after all. It was hell. You should see what the daedra do to the dead Mythic Dawn agents. And if I pity those bastards, that's saying something about how bad it is. And besides, anything that could make me want to abandon you and Cyrodiil to Dagon could never be a paradise. And I am no man's cat's-paw," she muttered bitterly.

Martin gave a gentle smile as Isolde suddenly changed her mood, and reached up and put her hand on his chest. Cupping her face with his hands, he pulled her close and kissed her as she clung to him. Breaking apart, Isolde gave what she hoped was a sultry smile as she stood up and as quick as she could removed her cumbersome armor. Dressed in leather pants and a sweaty tunic, she pulled the tunic up over her head and pushed Martin back onto his bed, straddling him as she pressed her lips to his. Later that night as they lay together in the dark, Martin leaned over and kissed her softly. Running a hand through her blonde hair, he dropped his head to whisper in her ear.

"This is my Paradise."

The next morning when Isolde woke up, she was alone. Sitting up, she saw that her clothes had been neatly folded and were laying on a bench. Isolde, having no desire to wear her sweat soiled tunic, rose from the bed and borrowed a shirt from one of Martin's wardrobes. She pulled on her leather pants and ran her fingers through her hair before leaving the bedroom for the Great Hall. Opening the door, she spied Martin standing next to his desk once again dressed like an Emperor. He wore a brilliant tunic of golden thread underneath a royal purple cloack trimmed with thick ermine fur. Around his neck was the Amulet of Kings and the bright red jewel sparkled in the firelight.

Isolde couldn't help but let out a gasp as she took in the sight of him and he looked up at her. It was only then that she noticed that all the other Blades were in the hall, and they were all down on one knee, bowing to their Emperor. In a flash, Isolde ran up to them and also fell to one knee.

"Hail Martin Septim," she greeted him.

She was finding it a little hard to breathe as she gazed upon his form. They had done it. They had actually done it! They had bested the enemy and defeated the leader of the Mythic Dawn and now they were a mere one step away from complete victory. Isolde felt herself grin and Martin frowned. She knew that he was still uneasy about people kneeling to him, and she could tell that he wasn't fond of her doing the same. But Isolde merely shook her head and continued to grin. It was only proper that she bow to him.

"Rise," he told all of the Blades. "Rise."

The men and women rose from the floor and stood at attention. "We must begin our journey to the Imperial City," he told them. "Immediately. Everyone, gather what supplies you need and ready your horses." The Blades nodded as one and left for the barracks. Isolde left with them and she didn't see Martin again until everyone was seated on a horse. "Should all of us be going?" she asked Fortis. "Shouldn't a small number stay behind to guard Cloud Ruler?" From beside her, Fortis grinned.

"And miss the coronation? Are you mad?"

He clicked his tongue and began down the steps and Isolde could only chuckle. The ride to the Imperial City seemed to take no time at all and they made it by mid afternoon. They left their tired horses at the stables and moved double time towards the White Gold Tower. When they entered the Temple District, they were greeted by a large number of Imperial Legion soldiers, led by one of the Captains, Heironymus Lex.

"Your Majesty," he bowed low to Martin. "Welcome. The Legion soldiers and I are yours to command and..." His icy blue eyes went wide when he took in the sight of Isolde standing next to Martin.

"Isolde?" He questioned.

All eyes fell on her and Isolde gave him a small grin. "Good to see you, Lex. Have you caught the Grey Fox yet?"

Martin looked from Isolde to this Captain Lex. "You weren't kidding about being friends with a captain, were you?" Isolde shook her head. "No. Why would I lie?"

"You...you are the Hero of Kvatch?" Lex looked at the girl he had known for most of his life. This young, flippant, slacker of a girl was the Hero of Kvatch? The mysterious new Blade that all the Watch was talking about? How could this be? Clearing his throat, he ignored the shock he was feeling and returned to the matter at hand. "Your Majesty, shall we escort you to the palace?" Jauffre answered instead. "Yes Captain Lex. Lead the way."

Isolde frowned. She had wanted the chance to talk to Heironymus, but she supposed that they could talk after the Dragonfires were lit. Many thought it an odd friendship, a flightly Breton and the most serious man in the Legion. But they had lived next door to each other growing up, and Lex had took special care of her after her father had died. He was the older brother she never had, and there were few people in the world that Isolde cared for more.

He now led the Blades to the Palace and then into the Elder Council Hall. Ocato was the only member in the room, and he stood waiting for them. "I've been expecting you," he told them. "The full Council has already considered the matter of Martin's claim to the Imperial throne in detail." Looking to Martin, Ocato made a stiff bow. "Martin Septim, on behalf of the Elder Council, I accept your claim to the Imperial throne. We should arrange the coronation ceremony as soon as..."

"Chancellor Ocato! Chancellor Ocato!"

One of the Imperial Legion soldiers ran into the Hall and interrupted them. He was frantic.

"Chancellor Ocato! The city is under attack! Oblivion gates have opened, and daedra are inside the city walls! The guard is overwhelmed!"

Ocato waved away the man's panic. "Courage, soldier. We have an Emperor again." He turned to Martin. "Your Highness, what are your orders? Shall the guard fall back to the Palace?" Martin shook his head. "No," was his answer. "If we let ourselves get besieged in the Palace we're doomed. We must get to the Temple of the One immedeately."

Ocato wasn't used to having his orders dissobeyed, but he said nothing to challenge Martin. "As you command, sire. Guards! Form up and protect the Emperor! To the Temple of the One!"

Isolde ran to Martin, intent on being with him at this new stage of crisis. They were so close! They had defeated Camoran, how could this have happened? She swallowed her anger and trailed behind Martin as the exited the Palace. Outside of the Palace, the city was in chaos. Red sky greeted them, as did the screams of the city dwellers. Daedra were everywhere, scamps and clannfears wrecking havoc on citizens who could not properly defend themselves.

"You four!" She yelled to a small group of Legion soldiers. "Form a circle around the Emperor. Now! Guard him with your life!" If they were offended by being ordered around by a young woman, they did not let it show. Instead, the men quickly formed a protective ring around Martin, their swords drawn. "To the Temple of the One!" Martin cried. They set of at a run, killing any daedra that crossed their paths. They quickly came to the gate to the Temple District and Isolde had to stop the sigh of relief from escaping her mouth. 'We aren't there yet,' she thought to herself. They charged through the gate, only to freeze when they reached the other side.

There, in the Temple District, was an Oblivion Gate.

"By the Gods!" One of the guards cursed. Isolde gasped. How could this be happening? She looked further down the district, and saw that there was a second gate in an arch-way. "Come on," one of the other guards rallied. "We can still make it!" In silent agreement, the group made their way down the stairs and started to run towards the Temple. Then, to Isolde's absolute horror, came a sound like a thousand tormented spirits. She looked up to see the red, four armed form of the daedric Prince himself. At once the guards, even the zealous young thing that just moments before had rallied them to continue on, froze with fear on the spot. Isolde turned her head to Martin and saw the look of despair on his face.

"We are too late...Mehrunes Dagon is here! Lighting the Dragonfires will no longer save us...the barriers that protected us from Oblivion are gone." Isolde's heart went cold with terror as she spied the giant form of Dagon.

"Can we cast him back into Oblivion?" She grabbed onto Martin's arm and pulled him back against a wall to get him away from the fray. "I don't know how. Mortal weapons may hurt him, but now that he is physically here in Tamriel, they have no power to actually destroy him." Helplessness settled over Isolde like a blanket, but then she saw the Amulet poking out from Martin's robes.

"What about the Amulet of Kings?"

At first he shook his head, but then Martin's blue eyes shone with excitment. "Wait. Yes. The Amulet was given to mortals by Akatosh. It contains His divine power...I have an idea. One last hope. I must reach the Dragonfires in the Temple of the One."

Isolde balked at his idea. "But you said it was no use!"

Martin took her hand and gripped it tight. "You'll just have to trust me. I now know what I was born to do. But I will need your help. I have to get passed Mehrunes Dagon, somehow." Isolde cringed as she heard a scream from behind them. Looking at the death that was now all around them, she steeled herself. "I'll get you to the Temple," she promised him.

Martin gave her a grim smile. "Then I'll do the rest. Lead on, Isolde." She tightened the grip on her sword's hilt and nodded.

"Follow me."

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'm with you."

Breaking free of his grip, she ran with Martin towards the Temple District, cutting through the daedra with the help of the Legion soldiers. They ran passed Dagon, passed his very legs, and entered the Temple, but Isolde was not so naive to think that just because they had reached the temple, they were safe.

"What now?"

He stood before her, seemingly oblivious of the chaos happening all around them. He seemed calm. The only thing that gave his fear away were his eyes. He dropped his weapon and took off his gloves and told her to do the same. Then he gripped her bare hands tightly in his as if he did not want to let go, and indeed Martin did not.

But he knew now what he had to do. "I do what I must do," he told her with sadness in his voice. "I cannot stay to rebuild Tamriel. That task falls to others. Farewell. You've been a good friend to me in the short time that I have known you. But now I must go. The Dragon awaits." He touched her cheek and kissed her gently on her lips. "Remember me as I am, Isolde. Not as the Emperor, but as a man. A man who loves you."

His blue eyes filled with tears and Isolde felt a sharp pain in her heart. "I love you, too, Martin," she told him, smiling despite the sudden wave of despair that washed over her.

He brought her forward and kissed her again. Breaking apart, she saw a tear fall from his eye onto his cheek and she brushed it off gently with her thumb. She did not understand what was happening; she only knew that Martin was saying goodbye to her, and she began to cry in earnest.

With one last squeeze of her hands, Martin left her standing there, paralyzed, as he ran into the middle of the temple. Suddenly the wall of the temple was kicked in and Mehrunes Dagon stepped inside. Isolde looked at Martin and saw that streams of light were shooting out of him, and his body was engulfed by light, making the roof of the temple explode.

"Martin!" She screamed. What was happening to him?

Flames shot up into the sky and took the form of a huge golden dragon. Isolde could only watch in horror as the dragon charged at Dagon, flew back into its position in the air and was stabbed by Dagon. The four armed Daedric Prince lunged wildly at the dragon, but it let loose golden flames that surrounded its enemy and made him step back, before clamping down on his neck with its golden jaws. It let go and took a step back, only to engulf Dagon in flames once again. The same streams of light that came out of Martin's body were now shooting out of Dagon's, and he disappeared, as if he had evaporated into thin air. Then the victorious dragon hung its head and panted, before throwing its back and letting out a mighty roar that forced Isolde to cover her ears. When it was over, a great stone statue stood in the golden dragon's place.

"Oh Martin," she whispered. She gazed up at the statue and she felt her heart slowly begin to break. She knew that Martin had become the golden dragon somehow.

She also knew that she would never see him again.

Her chest felt heavy and it was becoming hard to breath over the lump in her throat, but she heard the voice of the High Chancellor outside the ruined temple and Isodle did everything in her power to keep herself together.

High Chancellor Ocato entered the temple and ran towards her. "What happened? Where's Martin? I must congratulate him! Mehrunes Dagon is defeated! Cast back into Oblivion! We've won!"

Isolde was unable to keep her chin from quivering, nor stop the tears from slowly rolling down her cheeks. "Martin is gone," she whispered.

"What do you mean, gone? We saw the temple dome explode, the avatar of Akatosh appear...that was Martin?"

She hung her head and her shoulders slumped. "Yes."

"He must have shattered the amulet. The joined blood of kings and gods. The Amulet of Kings. The divine power of Akatosh." Ocato's quick mind put everything together in a moment. He brought his eyes to Isolde. "Then Martin is gone."

One of the Elder Council members tried to look on the bright side. "But the gates are sealed."

"Yes. Sealed forever. Mehrunes Dagon and his ilk can never threaten Tamriel again. Martin is dead. But he died an emperor, and a hero to rival Tiber Septim."

"What about the Empire?" Another council member, a blond Imperial, asked, still in shock.

"This victory is not without cost. We've lost Martin Septim. What an Emperor he might have made. His sacrifice was necessary, but it leaves the Empire without an emperor. I don't know what happens now. There are troubled times ahead for the Empire. But now is not the time to worry about the future. Let's just give thanks that we're alive. Miss Rozenn!"

Hearing her name made Isolde look up at him.

"In my capacity as High Chancellor of the Elder Council, I hereby proclaim you Champion of Cyrodiil! And as a small token of gratitude for your service to the Empire, I have ordered a suit of Imperial Dragon armor made for you. It is normally worn only by the Emperor himself, but you deserve no less, Champion."

Isolde only half heard him. There was movement from behind the Elder Council members and her attention was captured by Baurus and he stepped away from the group and locked eyes with Isolde. Seeing her friend looking at her with such pity in his eyes, something inside of her finally broke.

Ocato continued to heap praises on her, but Isolde heard none of it now. Instead, she, who had been the Hero of Kvatch, who was now the Champion of Cyrodiil, did the only thing she could: she sank to the ground and wept.


End file.
